


The Demon Amy

by montblanca



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference (Immortal), Angel & Demon Interactions, Angel & Human Interactions, Angel/Demon Friendships, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Human Friendships, Angel/Human Relationships, Angels, Cisgender Characters, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Demon & Human Interactions, Demon Deals, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Friendships, Demon/Human Relationships, Demonic Possession, Demons, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fallen Angel/Human Relationships, Fallen Angels, Guardian Angels, Heterosexual/Straight Romance, On Hiatus, Slow Burn, Souls, Souls as capital, Work on pause/hold indefinitely, celestial beings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28417392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montblanca/pseuds/montblanca
Summary: Amy is a Cross Roads Demon looking for a golden ticket.Laurel is his Golden Ticket, but perhaps not in the way he initially expects.Guardian Razia's purpose of existence is to protect Laurel. After failing when Laurel is still young, she's determined to wedge herself in between Laurel and Ami, no matter the cost, but she and Ami soon realize that someone as valuable as Laurel is not going to go unnoticed. If they want to protect her, they'll have to work together over the years.Follow Amy, Laurel, Razia, and Vergil as they navigate Laurel growing up, ignorant of the fact that she has a demon and an angel for best friends and the reason for it.Or: if you like grumpy characters having a soft side that is often repressed but gets to develop into an acknowledgment of more complex emotions that over time is embraced more and more, then this is for you.ON PAUSE INDEFINITELY WHILE WORKING ON THE VAMPIRE KING AND THE GODDESS OF BLESSED DEATHS (you can check them out by going to my works or visiting the last posted chapter of this work)
Relationships: Laurel/Ami, Laurel/Michael, Laurel/Montgomery, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character





	1. Away in a Manger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! :) I'm new here as a writer, so I just wanna say a couple things first, esp. in light of 2020: 
> 
> Constructive, concrete, critical feedback is always very much welcome, but I also like to hear what readers are enjoying, not enjoying, reactions, more casual comments, etc. I will, of course, take into account all comments, but I'm in grad school so can't promise quick replies. To ensure a safe environment, I'm of the mentality to tax the rich and eat the rude, so comments that are intolerant, xenophobic, hate of any kind, etc. will not be tolerated :)
> 
> I tend to come up with titles later on when I come up with a decent line of imagery, but I seem to be struggling this time. Any suggestions would be great. Also, I've been working on this story on and off for a few years now so there may be inconsistencies I overlooked. Please don't pass them off like it's "just another piece of AO3 writing with bad editing," I would actually love if you point out such things to me. Finally, if questions come up, please ask/comment so I can be sure they get answered and there aren't any plot holes, I've developed the world well enough to give you a good sense of things, etc. And, of course as I said, other comments are welcome! Hope you enjoy!

Amy stretched his arms over his head and yawned, looking through the glass at the various wriggling creatures kept in oversized, glass Tupperware and swaddled like Jesus had been in that gross manger centuries ago.

“A long day?” asked a NICU nurse.

Amy gave her a taunt smile. She mistook it as him admitting exhaustion and responded with a sympathetic hand on his arm.

“Try to get some rest,” she said. “It’ll be better for the both of you.”

The nurse started down the hallway and glanced back at what she presumed to be a tired but excited new father…but he had disappeared. She looked around, but there was no sign he’d ever been there to begin with. Having seen stranger things, he must have gone off to get some rest and went about her day. Or so she thought. He had, however, never moved and was still looking at the same baby in the same place.

 _So much more peaceful when they don’t notice you, but now I have to act fast before the others find me_ , Amy, thought with a groan. Rushed work was risky work.

Amy walked through the wall, the door too much of a bother, and ghosted up to the baby. She was wrapped so tightly in her cocoon of blankets that he wondered if babies were secret masochists loving to be strangled.

He was about to start on his task when the newborn locked eyes with him. He checked that no one was behind him, then leaned closer to the little bug.

“Can you see me?” Amy wondered aloud, moving side to side. The infant’s dark eyes sparkled.

Laurel, her parents called her. Laurel. How pagan. How ironic.

He opened his palm, a flame coming to life, startling the baby. He could see it wriggle in the blankets. Yet, it didn’t cry as it stared at the flame with pure and innocent wonder. The color of the fire reflected in her wide eyes. They burned not unlike the flame did; his flame burned with desire and hunger and the baby’s, in curiosity and amazement.

 _Huh_ , he thought, snapping himself of the trance the baby had put him in. He closed his palm, putting out the flame, and the baby returned its attention to him.

“All right,” he conceded, both to the baby and to himself.

𖤐

The fireplace exploded with life in the master bedroom apartment. Black-out curtains drawn, the streetlamp light peak through the edges as the only other source of light.

“Vergil,” called Amy.

A graying man in his 50s walked in. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Where to?”

“The kid.”

“I see. Good luck, sir.”

Amy stepped into the fire. The flames warmed his skin as he continued to walk through the nipping bodies of heat. Then, the coolness of dimmed lamp light and sage greens and grays washed over him. The flames extinguished.

To his right, a woman brushed her teeth at the sink in a baggy shirt and underwear. Her eyes sunk into the deep, purple bags beneath them. To his left, fully dressed, her husband’s head lulled to the side and a snore escaped from his agape mouth. The room was untampered with, no streaks of aura left but his own.

Irene and Gael. They had no idea about Amy. Had no idea about their daughter, really. Had no idea about the world.

 _Typical of humans, though_ , he knew. _Forever and always turning a blind eye to the genocides going on right now._ Children as young as Laurel being thrown out of buildings. Women like Irene raped over and over until she felt nothing below her waist. Men like Gael having their limbs cut off by men just like them. For what they look like or what they believe. 

And there were Irene and Gael. One of Nephilim blood, the other of Daemon. What the humans would do to them, to Laurel, if they knew. The other contract demons eager for a soul of bi-lineage would be mere spectators. A whisper here, a murmur there, and the family would be better off slaughtered like farm animals.

And hence, the check-ups.

Amy left the exhausted couple’s bedroom to a much tinier bedroom down the hallway of picture frames and smiling faces. A changing station, overflowing boxes of toys, and a wooden crib. He bent over to pick up the blanket that lay on the ground for what the new parents without a doubt called “tummy time.” It was grossly soft, like one of his cashmere scarves.

Dropping the blanket haphazardly when he reached the crib, he ran a finger along the wood. Hand-carved, it would seem. So, Daddy was good with his hands, as they say. Amy smirked, gazing down at the sleeping babe. He’d better be for Mommy’s sake after having to pop you out. One thing the size of a miniature watermelon, no matter how much of a preemie, did not _naturally_ fit through another thing the size of

No, birth was as strange as Amy, and yet humans questioned his existence more than the “miracle” of birth. Well, he was a fucking miracle and it was a miracle that _he’d_ found Laurel before anyone else. 

Amy said:

_Ángele Dei,_

_Me tibi commissum pietáte supérna;_

_Hoc nocte illúmina, custódi, rege,_

_et gubérna_.

_Amen._

He’d skipped a line on purpose: demons don’t generally regard the very being trying to undo their work as _qui custos es mei_ , “my guardian dear.” Still, Laurel burst into flames. It was strange for _him_ to be protecting her blood. Sacrilegious, really. But necessary. Necessary until she could form coherent sentences of her own volition. He looked greedily down at her.

Laurel opened her eyes amidst the flames. They went out, throwing the room into darkness. Her eyes blazed with a dancing glow. Man and baby stared at one another, as they so often did during his weekly check-ups.

Amy reached out to poke her tiny hand. Stubby fingers wrapped around his bony one. He’d tricked many children before, but never one with a soul so priceless.

Laurel’s gummy mouth opened wide, giggles filling the air. So far from a normal infant. So _awful_. Amy grimaced. “Could you not do that?” he said, and the giggles stopped.

Amy grinned widely, and Laurel let out a shrill laugh that made the demon flinch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last reminder on comments and just generally committing to a safe environment: 
> 
> I have been through a handful of workshop classes, so I'd like to think I'll be fine to withstand critiques. At the same time, it's made it so I have certain standards when it comes to critiques I will take seriously: I do ask that you still remain respectful and as objective as possible (i.e. not project your preferences or style onto my own writing, or note when you think you're doing so) when giving more constructive-type critiques. Otherwise, comment whatever, so long as it's not hateful. 
> 
> I want to make sure you guys feel safe/secure enough to speak your minds and comment--including, and most especially, if something in my writing is problematic (I'm cishet and white; while I try to be proactively aware, I'm not naive enough to think I'll be perfect all the time) so do point out those moments to me, if you feel comfortable enough to do so. I'm new and still figuring AO3 out as a writer, but lmk if I can make anything better for you fxlks. Finally, this goes w/o saying, but I hope you stick around and enjoy! 
> 
> If you become interested in my style, I've put up 2 other stories I'm working on. Idk how to link them in this space, so feel free to go to my dashboard and explore more :)


	2. What Child Is This

> If a man vows a vow to the Lord, or swears an oath to bind himself by a pledge, he shall not break his word. He shall do according to all that proceeds out of his mouth. 

Numbers 20:3

𖤐 

Laurel ran towards the playground, backpack bouncing on her back and arms stretched out wide. She raced up the stairs and let herself fly down the slide, her momentum carrying her forward so that she flung herself on the swings. Stomach pressed against the concaving plastic swing, woodchips kicked behind her, and she lunged forward. When she couldn’t go any further, she lifted her feet and flew backwards. Laughter filled the air and she watched the ground swing back and forth below her.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the shiny of her imaginary friend and looked up.

“Hello, Ami,” she chirped.

Her friend crossed his arms, but his expression was one of amusement. “Shouldn’t you be going to the birthday party you were invited to?” he asked and knelt down, her eye level above his.

Unbrushed hair in her dirty face, Laurel’s demeanor transformed, her face reddening. “Shut up!” she yelled, startling Ami.

“I would – except you wanted me here!” he protested.

“No, I didn’t!”

“Then why am I here, Laurel?”

“I don’t know!”

Ami sat down in the woodchips as Laurel stopped swinging. He’d only come because he could feel her loneliness, beckoning him like a moth drawn to the light of a zapper. Everything she felt, he felt. Every scrap of the knee, every yell from Mom and Dad. The terror of the monsters underbed and in the shadowed corners. He’d lulled her to sleep enough times to know even if her emotions weren’t invading his mind every time they changed suddenly. Which happened to be too often for his taste. Once a week, fine. At least five times a day, not so much.

“Laurel, what happened?” Ami asked, his voice having softened. A part of him hated how gentle he’d grown after just a few years of watching over this kid when he’d been alive for centuries and centuries, but he needed her, so if softening up a bit because she was a child helped him weasel his way into her good graces, then so be it.

“They don’t want me at the party! Everyone just invites everyone because they have to! If they want me to be their friend, then they would invite me to a sleepover, too!” she shouted and stomped her feet. “I’m four but I’ve never been to a sleepover! Just stupid birthday parties.” She kicked the woodchips, spraying them at Ami.

 _Perhaps_ , he thought, _she’d go to a sleepover if she didn’t kick so much._

He shifted a centimeter so one would hit his cheek instead of eye. This park was Laurel’s happy and sad place when she needed to go somewhere on her way home from school. Plus, this wasn’t the first time she’d kicked something at him in a fit.

Ami had held off using his powers on her before, a waste on children with no true self-awareness, but over the last few weeks, he’d wondered more than ever before. She wasn’t really old enough – or rather, mentally developed enough – to be susceptible. But there was no harm in trying. She wasn’t exactly his normal case.

“Laurel,” he cooed, giving a small but sweet, enticing smile, “Shall we make a deal?”

She stared at him blankly, and at first, he thought his charms hadn’t worked.

“Fine,” she conceded.

 _Not the usual eager reaction, but at least she agreed_ , Ami thought. She took up enough of his time already, so if he could at least try to erase whatever connection it was they had, the better. He didn’t want to be answering to her beck and call, just wanted to throw the some of his old mojo over her for their check-ups and get on with his business.

“So, what can I do to help you?” he prompted.

“Some chocolate ice cream with Oreos would be nice-”

“Laurel.”

“Fine!” she pouted, tears welling up. “I just want a friend, okay?”

Normally Ami shook hands or kissed or bowed, depending on the culture and person. None of those options appealed to him with Laurel. The sharp sound of his fingers fell over the empty playground.

“What happened to our deal? Where’s my friend? You promised,” Laurel said venomously.

It wasn’t the first time Ami had tried and failed with her. The surprise had worn off long ago, but years of work had taught him to think on his feet.

“I’m right here, Laurel,” he said.

Unamused and irritated, Laurel got to her feet.

“Let’s go home, Ami,” she said glumly.

𖤐 

“Good night, Lovebug,” said her mother, flicking the light off.

“Good night, Mommy,” Laurel said. She rolled over and looked at Ami, who only she could see, leaning against the finger-print covered window. The moon reflected in his dark eyes, making it look as if they were glinting, but she could see the softness in his face.

“Remember,” she whispered. “You can’t leave until I fall asleep okay? No matter how busy you are.”

“I’m not going to leave,” he promised.

 _You’re much too valuable. No one is going to get the chance to steal your soul from me_ , he thought as her eyes fluttered shut.

𖤐 

Ami stood next to a car, its front smashed into the freeway median. Fire and smoke rose from its hood. A man sat half-dead behind the wheel, ripped from his stupor of drunken waste when his car collided with a chunk of concrete.

“Do we have a deal, then?” Ami asked.

The driver groaned in pain.

“You called me, remember?” Ami said, annoyed. “You want to come to me soon or later?”

“Deal,” the driver breathed.

Later, then.

Ami let the addictive ecstasy that comes with a deal formed flood through his consciousness. The only thing better was when he got to collect the soul. Serotonin and MDMA didn’t compare. There was no push to “naturally” connect and “organically” empathize with those around. No stupid grinning at strangers. No heightened senses in a shithole apartment. No left-over jitters and tiredness. No twisted euphoria. Contracts and souls were plain and simple. They were addictive bliss and pure energy.

Ami’s reverie was torn short as something sharp ripped through his conscious. With a snap, the fire exploded and jumped beyond the car’s front. He left the dying man behind – if he died a little earlier than planned, so what? The man hadn’t been explicit with his contract – and walked through the flames of the crash and into Laurel’s bedroom.

She cowered in the corner, sobbing. Yelling, one voice on top of the other and layering together so thickly it became incoherent, came from downstairs. Fury made the hair on Ami’s arm stand up and he reappeared in the living room downstairs, right in between Daddy and Mommy.

They gasped and stumbled back, away from one another, away from a glowering Ami. Mom and Dad had jumped backwards, Dad to the wall and Mom to the couch. With them silent, for now, he disappeared in a shower of sparks and knelt before his priority.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Did they stop?” Laurel whispered, and Ami nodded.

Without thinking, he placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair. He could feel her calm beneath his touch. His brows came together, two hairy caterpillars crawling towards the same spot.

 _How can she trust so easily? So naïve, and yet so perceptive_.

“Ami?” she asked.

He let his hand drop from her and met her eyes.

“Let’s make a deal,” she said, and he froze.

Chuckling at his own astonishment, Ami nodded and said, “Alright. Your terms?”

“I want you to be my best friend forever,” she said.

Ami grinned from ear to ear. “Deal,” he said with a snap.

At first, nothing seemed to have happened, then he caught Laurel’s eyes.

They were as wide as the first and only other time she’d seen him use his powers (successfully). Instead of staring at a flame, however, she was staring directly at him.

Ami looked down and groaned, “Fuck me.” He was no longer kneeling but standing. He looked like any other four-year-old boy- no, he looked like the best friend that Laurel had imagined, a very small version of himself.

She broke out into the biggest smile he’d ever seen her wear, yet he felt nauseous.

“Mommy! Daddy!” Laurel jumped to her feet and raced out her door. “Guess what! Guess what! Ami’s like me now! _Mooom!_ Aren’t you listening?”

Another shower of sparks, and Ami was gone.

𖤐

“Sir,” Vergil began quietly from where he sat in the study of Ami’s home. He leaned forward towards the flames.

“I will skin you alive and put it on repeat for all eternity if you say another word,” Ami said, back in his old body in an empty alley. A flame, which he was talking into, flickered over his palm.

“Naturally, Sir.”

Having sealed the deal with Laurel, he couldn’t back out even if he tried. He was bound to Laurel until she died.

“As you can guess…today didn’t go as planned,” Ami admitted begrudgingly, pacing. “You’ll be having to run everything without me more than before. I’m also going to need you to get me an apartment. For now, get me a nice one. A mansion wouldn’t be bad but considering we’re not in an area where there aren’t very many, not a good idea for avoiding attention. I don’t want others noticing me – human or otherwise, got it? I’m also going to need another one – incredibly average, maybe even a little dingy.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Vergil.

“One more thing,” Ami spoke into the flame dancing over his palm. “I’m...I’m going to need…two bodies. Good condition. No, just one, identified as a female, and in perfect condition…Less to clean up later. Also, whatever the stereotype of a poor, working-class, single-parent-household apartment in. Less nosey neighbors, less clean up.”

“That’s very considerate of you.”

“If I have to fire you, I still have to do the clean-up.”

“Naturally,” Vergil agreed into the fireplace. “If I may speak, Sir.”

“What?”

“I do hope you aren’t considering tampering with the contract.”

“Vergil, you’re paid to do as I tell you, not vice versa. I’m not going to risk voiding the best deal in five-hundred centuries when I already have it.”

“Of course, Sir,” said Vergil, then heard a sigh through the flame.

The butler’s eyebrows raised, but he said nothing.

On the other side, Ami closed his palm and the fire went out on both sides.

𖤐

Back in Ami’s bachelor suite on the eleventh floor of the complex, the fireplace exploded and spat out a piece of charred parchment. The flames crackled. Vergil stopped tucking in the satin sheet on the bed and picked it up, gave it a once-over, signed at the bottom, and threw the parchment into the flames. It had read:

> Unholy Contract Form
> 
> For Amy, President of Hell’s 36th Legion
> 
> Amy is hereby promoted to Unholy Contract Status x St. Lucifer, Satan 
> 
> This Unholy Contract is entered into effect on November 17, 1997 by Amy (Lat. Avnas), the 58th Fallen Angel of the Power Choir, President of Hell’s 36th Legion under His Lord Most Lowly, Great Scholar of Astronomy and the Arts, Familiar to and Embodiment of the Eternally Damned Flame Flamma.
> 
> This Unholy Contract is entered into effected on November 17, 1997 by Amy, the 58th Fallen Angel of the Power Choir, President of Hell’s 36th Legion under His Lord Most Lowly, Great Scholar of Astronomy and the Arts, Familiar to and Embodiment of the Eternally Damned Flame Flamma, and xLaurel May Rivera-Panagos [ LMRP ] [ Consenting Party (CP) ] of 2357 Avenida De Los Palmeras, Poway, CA 92025 USA, Mundus [ Location of C.P.’s Nearest Source of Contact, Preferably a Fireplace ].
> 
>   1. Services Rendered Upon Agreement
> 

> 
> Amy is to be Laurel’s “best friend forever, stated as, “I want you to be my best friend forever” on April 4, 2002 at  2357 Avenida De Los Palmeras, Poway, CA .
> 
>   1. Changes in the Services Agreed Upon
> 

> 
> There are to be no changes. 
> 
> **NOTE** : TBD – Laurel has somehow managed to turn the demon Amy (me, the writer) into a child of Laurel’s age when called upon through their (our) metaphysical link, which seems to be strengthened by the contract (Amy experiences physical pain when fights it).
> 
>   1. Fees
> 

> 
> Laurel May Rivera-Panagos’s soul will be turned over to Amy, the 58th Fallen Angel of the Power Choir, President of Hell’s 36th Legion, to collect upon her death.
> 
>   1. Demonic Covenant
> 

> 
> Amy may not, in any form, version, shape, size, etc. of his being, attempt to nullify this contract. Should he even attempt to do so (I.E. by his own hand or by manipulating or hiring other demons, malevolent spirits, benevolent spirits, celestial beings, or humans, including the C.P.), the contract will fall void. The soul of the Consent Party will then be fair game to other contract demons. Contract demons, including Amy, are not be able to re-enter another contract with any Consent Party they have already entered into a contract with. Amy may not make any changes to his set Crossroads Contract Forms or Unholy Contract Forms or any other Contract Demon’s Contract Unholy Contract Forms or Crossroads Forms.

𖤐 

“Ami!” shouted Miss Tiffany from across the daycare’s playground.

“Hi,” he said, raising the pitch of his voice when she came up to him. He didn’t bother to stand up from his usual place during recess: a patch of grass with full view of the playground. He never liked playing with the other kids.

She took a deep breath, but still look shaken up as she knelt before him.

“Ami,” she began again with a false calm. “Did you…let the cockroaches loose? I promise not to get mad so long as you tell the truth.”

“You’ll get mad whether I tell the truth or not, Miss Tiffany,” he said. “Besides, how do it was me?”

“Because all the other students find them…” she searched for the right word.

“Interesting but disgusting,” Ami finished for her bluntly.

Miss Tiffany sighed, unable to deny it. That was one of the reasons why they chose the cockroaches – so the children would be less likely to try to sneak them out of their aquariums than they had been with the hamsters. The problem was that they didn’t bother Ami one bit; in fact, he seemed to revel in how disgusting his classmates found them.

“What are you going to do about the roaches?” Ami asked.

“Well, they’re cockroaches, Ami,” she said, kneeling down to meet his height. He scowled as she continued, “They’ve…disappeared for now. That’s why it’s so important that we don’t let them out.”

“Sooo…school is cancelled today?” he asked.

Miss Tiffany dropped her head, muttering something about not getting paid enough for this. Ami grinned, talking that as a yes.

“You know I’m going to have to call your mom about this, right?” Miss Tiffany said eventually.

“And then you’ll have to call Laurel’s parents, because mine’s too busy,” Ami shrugged.

“Yup. You got it, Ami,” Miss Tiffany nodded. Her facial expression softened as she looked at him and put a gentle hand on the side of his head and rubbed his cheek.

Ami recoiled violently.

Perhaps if he really was a small child neglected by a single parent, left to depend on his best friend and her family, he would have liked the touch. Perhaps that would have been his reason for acting out. But, no, he had become no more than a bored demon trapped in a tricky deal. If he was stuck like this, then he was going to be as nasty as could be. Making deals with his naïve classmates and peeking under his teacher’s skirts and getting the principal fired wasn’t beyond him when he needed to pass the time.

“You think that you can misbehave just because your mother is busy?” chided Laurel’s mother, Irene, as she gripped Ami’s chin. Laurel’s father, Gael, stood behind her in silent solidarity with arms crossed. They’d sent Laurel up to her room, the only thing they’d done that Ami appreciated.

 _This is exactly why I created only one fake parent_ , Ami thought with pursed lips as he glared at them. He ground his teeth to stop from snapping at them.

“No TV for a week,” she announced, but Ami didn’t care, letting her do as she pleased. “I’m going to text your mom about what’s going on.”

 _Go ahead and text Vergil. Guess I’ll actually make use of that TV for once_ , Ami thought as he suppressed a smirk.

𖤐 

From inside Ami’s more luxurious apartment, he lay sprawled out over the couch in his regular earthly form. Dark hair stuck up in various directions after the nap his instincts had woken him from.

Suddenly, he was outside his own apartment, near the complex’s small private pool, where he’d sensed a prowling being.

“Hello, dear,” cooed Ami, startling the demon he’d snuck up on. “Trying to steal someone else’s gold? You know she’s mine.”

“For such an intelligent lord, you’re an idiot,” the demon snarled.

“Well, you are sneaking up on me to kill me, thus voiding my contract with her, are you not? Or…did you think I meant you were going to kill her, thus giving me _exactly_ what I am _so_ looking forward?” Ami moved his hands behind his back.

In response, the demon snarled like a wild animal, making his human body twitch violently.

“That’s what I thought,” Ami said, circling the demon. “I’m so glad you came to try to kill me – honestly!” He grinned from ear to ear. “I haven’t had a fresh kill in years, which is why I’m stringing this out with you. Normally you’d be dead by now. These days I have Vergil take care of the likes of you, since I’ve been a little busy polishing my gold, but you know how we get…We love a good, sporting kill.”

The demon hissed, a sound that was cut sharply off by its own screaming.

𖤐 

“But, Mommy – it’s scary there!” Laurel protested, tugging on her mother’s leg.

“Where are we?” asked Amy as he craned his neck to look up at the towering building before him. It was the color of sand, totally bland. Not even the architecture was worthy of note. He’d missed the sign when Gael took the turn into the parking lot a little too sharply and hit the curb.

“We’re visiting Laurel’s Grandma,” said Irene.

“She lives here?” Amy asked, skeptical.

“It’s an old folk’s home,” Gael explain. “Lots of grandmas and grandpas. Maybe you can find yourself one, Amy.”

Amy looked both perturbed and disgusted.

“Just kidding, kid,” Gael said and patted Amy on the back. Barely reaching Gael’s knees, Amy staggered forward and found himself in the nursing home. He was fAmyliar with the scent of death in Hell but smelling it in the human world just felt…wrong.

“It always smells bad here,” muttered Laurel.

“Did your grandma die?” Amy asked.

Laurel gasped.

“No,” Irene quickly said. “She’s completely fine.”

“Except for sucking up all our money,” Gael muttered.

“Not. Here,” Irene seethed.

Gael’s father had drunk himself to death, his mother dying of old age yet not having been that old, and Irene’s parents had reached their forties when they had her and passed away during her college and graduate school years. Everyone said it was a miracle Grandma Rivera had made it this long.

A miracle. Amy didn’t think of it as such. More like a curse. Who would want to grow old?

Between her hospital bills and the nursing home costs, which had started coming in even before Laurel had been born, Grandma Rivera was the main reason for Laurel’s family’s financial problems, and through that vein, the main reason for Gael’s drinking.

They checked into the nursing home and made their way to the visiting room, where the smell of old people and soap and outdated perfume filled Amy’s nose. He let out a small cough, catching the attention of some of those playing a game of cards at the table near the entrance.

Amy looked away, suddenly self-conscious. He quickened his pace until he was stepping on Irene’s shoes. She grabbed his shoulders and moved him in front of her. At first, this had seemed like a good idea. But now they were all staring at him, and Amy back pedaled into her.

“Amy, what on earth,” she began.

“It’s okay,” said a shaky but gentle voice.

“Grandma!” shrieked Laurel, making Amy cringe, and she leaped onto the lap of a heavyset old woman in a wheelchair.

 _I hate this place_ , Amy thought. He could sense all the deals and contracts nearing their end; it attracted the demons that belonged to them. It also attracted some lone ones that were stupid enough to think they would be able to steal a soul; they were obviously driven mad or idiot newbies and had no idea how the contracts worked.

Demons can’t just steal one another’s deals. It would be a mess then, with everyone scheming and tricking and stealing. The demons would be in more disarray than they already were, and who knows what would happen to all the souls left unchecked but fought over. Still, if you managed to kill a contract demon, you could potentially, though unlikely, take his contracts and thus souls. Souls are the strongest of currencies in Hell, making contract demons not too far down the food chain even from Fallen Angels. Some Fallen Angels even took contracts of their own, giving some respect to the job, but also making it more dangerous as the moronic demons fought harder to steal souls.

And Amy had captured one of the best souls. Of course, there were plenty like Laurel’s, Irene’s, and Grandma Rivera; but Grandma Rivera, knowing she was near death, was set on those moral Biblical ways, and Irene, her dutiful daughter, followed the Bible enough that most demons didn’t think of her as an easy target. Which was why Amy swooped in when Laurel was still but a baby. By visiting her in the hospital, he’d practically laid claim, and messing with another demon’s territory was usually just a waste of time. Demons worked alone and none of the demons powerful enough to overtake a contract demon thought it worth their time; they were busier causing wars and wreaking havoc on entire countries.

Still, just being in an area with so much contracts near each other was unsettling to say the least.

“The poor boy looks besides himself,” said Grandma Rivera. “You must be Amy.”

Amy stared at the older woman, half hidden behind Irene’s leg.

“He’s normally much more mischievous,” said Gael, a cruel amusement creeping into his tone. His hands moved to his hips. “I think this is actually the first time I’ve seen him like this.”

“Perhaps bad memories,” Irene whispered as if she thought Amy couldn’t hear or wouldn’t understand. “He hasn’t had the easiest of lives.”

Grandma Rivera looked down at him, snuggling Laurel. “Well,” she said. “Perhaps my room?”

Yes, anywhere but here, thought Amy, relieved when they left the visiting room. He could still sense the other demons, but at least now he couldn’t see physical reminders of their existence. 


	3. Children: To Whom The Kingdom Belongs

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

> Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright.

Proverbs 20:11

𖤐

Amy watched Laurel watch the group of first grader girls playing jump rope. Amy had already picked out who would be the “popular” kids during grade school, get knocked off their high horses before college graduation, and crash and burn before reaching their forties: three of the five girls who played jump rope and half of the boys who played games of pick-up basketball every lunch. They’d be athletic in elementary school, they’d be confident in middle school with an air of false carelessness, arrogant for the rest of their lives, and maybe attractive based on the ever-changing American beauty standards at some point.

They were Laurel’s weak points. Their parents had inflated their egos. Laurel’s had disciplined her when it was due to shape her into a good girl, but their fights with one another had made her cynical and awkward and shy. And envious.

Amy grinned.

“Why are you smiling?” Laurel asked.

Amy met Laurel’s gaze with a malicious blaze smoldering in his eyes.

“Taylor – I like her,” he lied, but he could see the blow hit Laurel.

She blinked again and again, as was her habit when holding in her tears in front of her parents.

Amy had hit the nail. If she was going to make his life another Hell, he was going to pay her back for such kindnesses.

𖤐 

Amy had expected it. It did not make it any less annoying.

“Amy?’ the first-grade teacher stared at him. “Your name is Amy? With an ‘i?’”

“Yeah,” he said. It would be a human lifetime of “Amy with an ‘i’ not a ‘y’” and pretending he didn’t already know the answer to everything. If he was sent a grade ahead, he’d be away from Laurel. His prize. If he was stuck with her while she was awake, then he wanted to keep an eye on her, to shape her in his own way. 

𖤐 

“Hi! I’m Nikki!” cheered a little girl. “I hope we can be friends!”

It’s only the first day of second grade.

 _Burn me alive_ , Amy groaned inwardly.

Laurel’s eyes widened at the amount of random friendliness Nikki had bestowed on her. Until class began, Nikki went on to jump from classmate to classmate, introducing herself to each person to their teacher Mrs. Madison’s amusement.

“It’s not real. She doesn’t want to be our friend,” Amy whispered to Laurel.

Laurel looked at Amy. The Amy who’d always been there for her. A familiar, comforting warmth spread over her under his gaze, and yet something pierced her heart.

“Why?” Laurel said, looking hurt.

“She only wants to be friends with the cool kids,” Amy murmured, looking ahead at Mrs. Madison. “Maybe she’ll be friends with us at first, but they’re always the same. She’ll just leave us once she meets the popular kids.”

Laurel’s heart beat faster as an iron hand clamped around it, and she steeled herself. She knew she wasn’t one of the smart kids in class whom the teacher loved, nor one of the rich ones with the newest and best toys. She was just…there…with Amy. He was the only steady constant; he felt more consistent than her own parents.

It made her want to cry, what Amy was saying. The difference was she didn’t want to believe it. It didn’t matter if he was right.

𖤐 

It was the fifth time this week Laurel’s and Amy’s third grade classmate Trey had run up and pulled on Laurel’s hair at recess.

“Hey!” shouted Laurel. She gave chase.

While Laurel chased Trey around the field, Amy went and sat down. He plucked at the grass, knowing what Laurel was oblivious to: Trey had a crush.

“What is this stupid deal?” grumbled Amy to himself. “I hate kids. Why did you make me make me turn into one? You said you wanted a friend – not me as your friend! How the fuck can a damn child out swindle a thousand-year-old demon?” He let out a frustrated growl. “Can’t even undo goddamn demon deals!”

Amy froze, his head snapping up; something was wrong. He didn’t know how he knew, but since the deal had been made, it had given him something like a sixth sense regarding Laurel.

A few meters away, Trey had Laurel pinned.

Amy didn’t hesitate; he jumped up and raced towards them. Despite spending most of his time in a child body most of these days – or rather, years – Amy hadn’t totally lost all his gifts. In this body, he was still stronger and faster than the average…kid his “age.” So, tackling Trey after having gained plenty of momentum, wasn’t hard to do, but the crash following it wasn’t as painless as it would have been had he had his full powers in his child’s body.

Amy and Trey began wrestling in the dirt and grass, and Laurel jumped on top of Trey the second Amy was under Trey. A few moments later, four different teachers were racing to stop the child’s brawl and tear them apart.

Ten minutes later, three very dirty, scraped up third graders were sitting in the principal’s office.

“Never would have done that before,” Amy grumbled under his breath.

“Amy,” warned Miss Therese. “I said _silent_.”

Amy scowled, looking off to the side and crossing his arms.

“Isn’t it hard to keep a straight face for discipling when they’re so cute?” Amy could hear one of the teachers saying in the room across from the office reception where the kids were being kept. The teacher added, “I mean, just look at Amy right now.”

 _What happened to being a feared demon? I hate my life. I hate kids_ , thought Amy. He glanced over at Trey and a deep, venomous hatred filled him.

Trey met Amy’s gaze, but when Amy growled, his eye blazing, Trey quickly looked away.

 _Hmph_ , Amy thought with a smirk. _Maybe kids aren’t so bad._

“We’ll be calling your parents to take you home,” said Principal Hernandez, who came out of his office.

“My parents work,” Amy grumbled. “They can’t take me home…remember?” This wasn’t his first time to be sent home for sticking up for Laurel. It wasn’t her first time to be sent home for starting a fight.

“Yes, I know,” Principal Hernandez said. “Which is why they requested you to be sent home with Laurel and her family or to be kept here. We contacted Laurel’s family…but they’re busy now. So, you two will be staying in the lounge, thinking about your actions until you can be picked up. We’ll send you home with your homework when you get picked up. For now, Laurel, Amy, please go into the room next door. Trey, your mother is on her way so please stay here.”

 _Another day wasted in the office. Yay_ , thought Amy. His parents weren’t real, and since a year ago, Laurel’s parents were busy after her dad got a promotion two years ago and her mom got a new job last year.

With Laurel leading the way, she and Amy dragged their feet into the next room. Amy heard Trey snigger and shot him a side glare, silencing the boy.

𖤐 

“Amy, don’t tell Laurel’s mom, but good job,” Gael whispered later that night while Irene cooked dinner. They secretly bumped fists.

“I’ll protect her better than you can,” Amy promised.

Gael snorted in disbelief, making Amy frown.

“No, you’re right, Little Man,” said Gael with a chuckle, and he ruffled Amy’s dark head of hair.

Amy seethed in silence, wanting to skin the man alive right then and there. He made a mental note to himself to remind Vergil to find a job that required extreme violence later that night. He hadn’t needed to let off so much steam for years. Then again, years had never felt like they lasted so long.

𖤐 

“Sir?” Vergil began when Amy suddenly appeared before him, covered in blood.

Amy coughed before stumbled forward, Vergil swiftly moving a cushioned chair to keep his master from falling on the woodened floor.

“Why can’t everyone stick to working alone?” Amy managed as he wheezed in pain.

In Hell, everyone worked alone – with everyone second guessing and back stabbing one another every chance they could get, it was the best and only way to get ahead unless you were powerful enough to not care, or you were a contract demon using one of your previous souls, like Vergil – so it was no surprise to him that it took this long for a group to have formed. It was his own fault for telling Vergil to let him fight them on his own, but he’d wanted to let out all that he’d been suppressing when living his second life in Laurel’s world.

“At least it’s not all your own blood, Sir,” Vergil murmured.

Amy laughed, then winced.

“I just need to take a long, warm bath,” Amy said. “This contract…is really something.”

Something like fear flashed through Vergil’s eyes, but had gone as quick as it had come.

“Relax,” said Amy. “ _She_ is not something I’m going to be giving up on.”


	4. Little Drummer Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :) 
> 
> Hope the holiday/New Year season is treating you well. If you're having a hard time, feel free to hmu. Here's to good change and a new normal from 2021 on!

MIDDLE SCHOOL (Part 1)

> The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.

2 Corinthians 5:17

𖤐 

At sixth grade Physical Education class, Amy ran past the finish line, panting, alongside a few other athletic classmates. Wincing, side throbbing, he went to the side lines to find his water bottle.

“Harder than normal, Stevens?” teased the middle school PE teacher and soccer coach.

Amy grunted in response, trying to shrug it off but visibly bothered.

“Look, happens to everyone,” said the coach. “Maybe it’s just an off…season.”

Amy’s physical capabilities were becoming more and more average. It had been so gradual that neither he nor anyone else had noticed until the last swim season. Before, he never fully exerted himself to make sure he didn’t stand out too much. When his records began to drop, no one thought much of it…until by the end of the season, his times weren’t even noticeable. He couldn’t have been more average, which meant he had to begin exerting more effort than before if he wanted to keep his normal times.

Not being noticed certainly made life easier, and he didn’t have to think about keeping himself in check for fear of attracting unwanted attention, except his swim coach pestering him about slacking off. Then it started to affect his PE classes, which had previously been the easiest of classes for him other than that one time he took a religion class. He went from being a great, though he kept it in check in order to never labeled as “excellent,” to decent. If this kept up, he worried that he would have to exert just as much effort as any human in order to be at least average.

 _What’s wrong with me?_ Amy thought.

𖤐 

“Amy, Laurel, we need to tell you something,” said Gael from the open space between the living and dining room, nodding his head towards the dining room.

Amy turned off the television and nudged Laurel further awake, only half awoken from her father’s voice. Taking their blanket with her, she moved away from him and dragged her feet towards the table, leaving the side she’d been glued on Amy feeling cold. He shuddered and followed her into the other room, where they sat down.

“Laurel, are you awake enough to hear what we have to say?” Irene asked.

Laurel raised her head from where she’d laid it down on the table and nodded. Amy glanced between Gael and Irene, sensing the tension and apprehension. He elbowed Laurel. Suddenly more awake than she had been the whole night, she glared at him.

“Okay, okay, no need for that now guys,” Irene said quickly.

“It’s about my job,” Gael blurted out.

“So much for being smooth,” Irene muttered.

“They need to know,” Gael retorted. He looked at the two youths. “I was laid off.” Laurel bristled; Amy could sense it without needing to be near her, “It’s going to make money very tight.”

“Is anything going to change? Do we have to move? What about Amy?” Laurel asked, looking at her best friend.

Amy hadn’t even considered it affecting him and sudden he felt the same alarm that Laurel felt.

 _Is it going to affect our contract?_ he wondered. His mind reeled, thinking about all the possibilities that could happen.

“He is welcome, always,” Gael said.

Irene looked less than pleased, and it was clear to Amy that they hadn’t really discussed things fully before making the announcement.

“I’m fine to pitch in…for anything,” Amy said.

Gael looked amused. He said, “That’s not necessary-”

“But may be helpful,” Irene said pointedly. “We might not even be able to keep buying his groceries. Ella only pays for the gas for carpooling.”

“We can pay groceries,” Amy said.

“Whole, Nelly, hold your horses,” Gael said. “How about talking it over with your mom first? But, really, it’s _not_ necessary, Amy.”

Irene clenched her fists, moving her hands under the table.

“Anyways, your father – Gael,” Irene said as her eyes met Amy’s. “ – and I will talk more about it privately. You two, how about you go back to the living room if you’ve finished all your studies?...Although, if you’re just going to sleep, might as well go to bed, Laurel, and I can take Amy home-”

“No,” Laurel protested too quickly, and Gael narrowed his eyes on Amy, who suddenly felt as small and vulnerable as a mouse pinned under cat claws. “I mean…we’re in the middle of a movie.”

“Laurel, you’re half asleep,” Irene said.

“I want to finish the movie,” she said. It was a decision, not a request. She took Amy by the Amy and started to haul him into the living room.

Irene started to protest.

“Viv, she’s probably just worried we’re gonna move,” Amy heard Gael murmur.

“We’re not, though.”

“I don’t think that’s the point.” Gael chuckled.

𖤐 

“My dude!” called out Tanner to Amy, who inwardly groaned as he smelled the Axe Body Spray on his classmate before he felt the punch to the arm. Forcefully, yet as if Amy had asked for it, Tanner grabbed Amy’s hand and yanked him for one of those “bro hugs.”

 _All I wanted was to get my books from my locker – no, all I wanted was an easy way out to get another soul…should’ve known there’s no loophole to tricking a child, or that it’d be easy_ , thought Amy.

Amy tried to not grunt from the force of the impact of body-slamming too harshly. He’d seen it done a million times, yet it never looked this painful.

 _Maybe it’s an awkward middle school thing_ , Amy thought as Tanner pulled away, but he doubted it.

Then again, Amy had never seen someone as controlling, hypermasculine, overbearing, and haughty as Tanner’s father. Luckily, Tanner’s older brother seemed to be Daddy’s favorite, allowing Tanner to be more of a Mama’s Boy. He would always be second to his brother, in height, in academics, and most importantly to their father: in sports.

Amy could remember the first time they’d met. It was also the first time he’d seen a boy in middle school cry, though it had been when Tanner thought no one else was in the locker room after his father had nearly beaten him in front of the few still hanging around the pool, long after swim practice had ended.

Tanner had joined one of the few sports his brother had never attempted: swimming. Tanner was second only to Amy, until recently. Tanner’s life seemed to have gotten easier since Amy’s powers had weakened and his times dropped, and Amy hated him all the more for it. He wished he could watch as Tanner’s father screamed at the boy to push himself harder, to be the fastest (never mind that the coach had always said swim was more about self-competition and testing your own boundaries), until he was so exhausted someone had to help him out of the pool.

The very first time they’d met Amy made the mistake of “accidentally” tripping Tanner’s father so he fell into the pool. His yelling had been too distracting and was interrupting Amy’s focus. Swimming had become one of the few things he didn’t hate about his current situation. There was no need for some wannabe-man to ruin it for him when it was only try-outs for the newbies like Tanner. Amy had made the mistake of not bothering to really hide it, amusing half of the parents and adults while shocking the other half (the half who were new and obviously didn’t know Amy yet), pissing off Tanner’s father, and thus making himself Tanner’s idol.

Amy finished switching the books he took home (for show and never touched) and the books he’d maybe glance through depending on just how boring class got.

 _Too bad I can’t do some real damage_ , Amy mused. But that would attract the attention of big-mouthed spirits which would attract the attention of much worse. Demons were much too territorial and desperate over their deals.

“Miss Roberts is back today,” Tanner said. He held his hands up to his chest as if holding two breasts, snickering, and punched Amy in the arm again.

Amy resisted the temptation to punch Tanner in the face. It would make for a better show on graduation day, if the kid annoyed him enough.

“Good,” Amy said. “Then you can show her how much you’ve grown.”

Tanner laughed.

 _This is Hell_ , thought Amy.

“She’s substituting for Mrs. Browne,” Tanner blurted out.

This caught Amy’s attention. He looked the boy up and down.

“What did you do?” he asked.

Tanner leaned forward. “Between you and me,” he said in a low but excited whisper, “I took your advice.”

“I doubt that very much,” he said dismissively, remembering how he’d told Tanner to ‘just kill the hag already if she’s so awful’ in an attempt to shock the mongrel into silence. Of course, it had failed. There had been but two seconds of blissful silence.

Besides, Tanner wasn’t the killing type. Amy would know.

“She’s allergic to mushrooms,” Tanner whispered.

Amy studied the other boy, leaning back slightly to get a better look. The other boy held his gaze unwaveringly. Amy almost smiled.

 _He may not be a killer, but if he continues to be this blind to what he’s doing, his future may not be much brighter. And he’s playing right into the palm of my hand_ , Amy thought.

“I don’t suppose she’s in the hospital?” Amy asked, beginning to walk to class while also searching for Laurel.

“Not like she’s got long to live anyways,” shrugged Tanner. “Anyways, it’s not important-”

 _He really has no clue what he’s done or doing_ , Amy thought, narrowing his eyes.

“Miss Roberts is here,” Tanner said, then raced forward with a leap in the air and a holler to the skies. “See you in class, dude!”

 _As if you have a chance when I don’t even have one, not in this dreadful child’s boy_ , thought Amy.

Suddenly, something heavy slammed against his back. He bent forward under the weight, stumbling with arms out to catch himself – and to keep Laurel from tumbling over his head.

“You’re so lucky I’m stronger than I look,” he gasped as he straightened up, and she giggled.

“Take me to class, Amy,” she demanded, bouncing against his back.

She climbed over his backpack awkwardly, naively wrapping her limbs tightly around him against spots that made him gulp.

“You’re making my pants fall down!” he cried out, suddenly desperate to get her off, and wriggled out of her grasp. She half-fell off him, frowning.

“Well, that was rude,” she snapped.

Amy pretended to pull up his pants, which were actually just fine. “Well, I-you-” He took a deep breath then said, “Don’t do that.”

She got to her feet. She’d grown past most of her peers, and now could lock eyes with Amy more steadily than in years before; he wasn’t looking down his nose at her as often these days. She held her nose inches from his, smirking widely. Amy fidgeted, used to it being the other way around.

“Make me,” she said before prancing around him and skipping off.

Amy let out a breath.

“No wonder no one likes middle school,” he muttered.

𖤐 

Laurel sighed, lost in her own world at lunch. Amy had been lost in his own as well, scrutinizing over his loss of strength and speed and how Tanner wouldn’t leave him alone in the mornings and during swim events.

“What?” he asked, finding an opportunity to release some of his frustrations.

“I wish Dad would find a job,” she grumbled.

“Why?”

“Since Dad got laid off, every time I asked for something, it’s always no,” she whined.

“But your Dad always gives you what you want,” Amy said.

“But Mom-”

“Everyone knows: if you want something, you go to Dad,” Amy said pointedly. “It doesn’t matter how poor you become; he’ll always give you presents.”

“He said no last time,” she retorted.

“How many times did you ask?”

Laurel paused then said, “How many times am I supposed to?”

“It helps if you cry,” Amy said.

“I’m not a baby,” spat Laurel.

“Do you want to get whatever you want or not?”

Amy could see the wheels working in her mind as she mulled over what Amy said. She didn’t complain for the rest of the day. She was again lost in thought, but this time Amy could tell she was scheming.

𖤐 

“I hate you!” screamed Laurel that night. “I never get anything! It’s all Dad’s fault!”

Tears streaming down her face, she ran upstairs and slammed her bedroom door.

“No slamming doors!” Irene called after her.

Laurel screamed and sobbed into her pillow.

“Did we raise a drama queen?” Irene muttered.

Gael, on the other hand, said nothing, visibility wounded by Laurel’s outburst. He stood, went to the kitchen and popped open a beer, and moved to the living room where he plopped down in front of the television.

𖤐 

It was the third time that month Amy had returned to Hell covered in blood. Over the years, his returns had become more and more common. As they became more common, the blood was increasingly his own. Not only that, but Vergil had noticed that Amy’s wounds were taking longer to heal. He didn’t say anything because there’s no way Amy didn’t know; he didn’t take his master for a fool. Yet, Amy refused to call Vergil back to the earthly world. It was his own way of letting out all the frustrations that came with being a part of Laurel’s world.

“Vergil,” Amy gasped as he walked through the fire and into his bathroom. A moment later, his servant was at his side and gingerly helping him to peel the soiled clothes off his bruised, battered, blooding body.

“I think I’m going to need you take over this part of the job more often,” Amy admitted. “The groups are getting…bigger.”

 _And bolder_ , he thought.

“It’s a good thing no Fallen Angels have involved themselves yet, Sir.”

“If I was a superstitious human, I’d tell you not to jinx us.”

Vergil didn’t reply as he turned the tub faucet on.

𖤐 

In his adult human form, Amy stepped up to the nursing home bed. This old form now felt _old_ , carrying all the centuries Amy had lived with it.

 _I’m growing too used to the child’s form_ , he thought bitterly. 

“Amy,” said Grandma Rivera, smiling. Amy froze, but she hardly noticed anything strange about his sudden leap in years. “How’s Laurel? She didn’t visit yesterday.”

Irene’s mother had been placed in the hospital a few days ago, and they’d been given the news that she only had a few days left.

Amy swallowed. “She’ll visit later today,” he promised.

“Only because she has no choice,” she responded and shifted in the bed to move closer to Amy. She lifted her hand, and Amy took it. “I’m dead, after all. They have to come see me.”

“You take good care of her, Demon,” Grandma said. 

“I will,” he murmured.

“No, you won’t,” she said smiling, and a lump formed in Amy’s. “But you’re not doing a terrible job.”

Amy smiled tightly.

“Now, go, before who is actually going to pick me up come,” Grandma Rivera said.

“How do you know it’s not me?” Amy chuckled.

She met his gazed dead-on. “Because I was a damn good woman.”

“Because you prayed?”

“Because I loved without judgment, you sorry excuse for a lump of a spirit,” she retorted and smiled.

Amy smirked and nodded.

𖤐 

“Laurel?” Amy asked when he saw her puffy eyes a few days later.

She was dressed in a simple black dress, and he in some dark jeans and a wrinkled black button-up. He’d gone to Laurel’s house so they could go to church together for the memorial. Amy wasn’t fond of the idea of entering a church, but nothing stopped his ability to do so. Plus, he knew the state that Laurel was going to be in.

Irene had texted Amy’s “mother” about the passing of Grandma Rivera. Vergil, dutifully playing the role of an overworking ass hat of a mother and women in general, left it on “read.” Then a few hours later in the middle of the night, said “she” would have Amy ride his bike to school until they could carpool again. So, Amy did not have to explain he knew what had happened and no one had to explain to him what had happened.

“I know you didn’t like to visit her and were too scared to return-” Amy flinched but said nothing “-but I’m going to really miss her,” Laurel sobbed. She hugged Amy tightly, taking the breath away from him. He patted her back.

 _How does one comfort a crying child? This was so much easier when all I had to do was tell Irene to bottle feed her...Whatever, so long as this makes her trust me more_ , Amy thought.


	5. What A Friend We Have in Amy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" (Joseph M. Scriven, 1855)

MIDDLE SCHOOL (Part 2)

> the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require.

1 Corinthians 12:21-26

𖤐

Amy had managed to sneak into her bedroom. Barely, though, considering the window hardly had any way of getting up to it.

 _What’s her name again? Stephanie?_ he wondered.

It didn’t matter; she was a senior, and famous for her…conquests. Since coming to the less-than-average-in-every-way suburb, the life Amy spent as a human was the driest time he’d ever lived, and he'd lived for thousands of years. To think it was all for one soul – but the richest soul he’d ever encounter.

“How old are you?” asked the girl – Stephanie, or whatever.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Amy smirked.

“Fourteen?”

 _Shit. Try adding a couple zeros_ , Amy thought, but he held the smirk.

“Ha-ha,” he said sardonically with a touch of petty grump. His palms sweat, rubbing them on his jeans before realizing what he was doing.

His nervousness irked him. He really was acting like a middle school boy with a crush.

This Stephanie frowned, driving Amy off the edge and he cursed himself for it. He was tired of it all – being looked down on like he was nothing but a small child, sometimes feeling as though he really was one.

He leaned forward and kissed her, slowly at first, then more fervently, with the experience of thousands of years. His childish nervousness and woes melted away as he lost himself in this half-witted human girl.

𖤐 

“Dude – everyone’s talking about you,” Tanner sniggered at lunch.

Stephanie had gone on to brag to her cheerleading teammates about Amy’s…skills, and the gossip spread like wildfire. At first, Amy had thought nothing could be better. Over the last month, girls from out-of-town high schools were giving him all the attention he'd been desiring. He spent most evenings at high school parties in search of his next hookup for that week or day, depending on how many parties he could find that in a week. 

But the town was too small for Amy’s liking. Everybody knew someone who knew someone, so his secret only lasted so long before one of his classmate’s older siblings had ratted him out – with the previous year's yearbook as proof of him being some middle school _kid_. The girls went from fawning to appalled. After the last party, where a couple girls slapped him and someone's boyfriend had literally picked him up and thrown him out, Amy put a hold on partying. Vergil suddenly had incoming complaints from a couple of threatening parents who "just wanted to give some parenting advice to get your son to better respect you." He had drawn the line when someone’s uncle, a pastor, called and got ride of the phone - only for Amy to tell him to get it replaced because they still needed one for Laurel. When the school caught wind, he was suspended for a week. Laurel and Irene hadn’t reacted much better. Some yelling was involved, and for once, Laurel didn’t stick up for him. 

_Traitor_ , Amy had thought as he fell under Irene’s fire. It had been like a hurricane had been let loose in the Atlantic. Not even Gael came down from upstairs that whole night. No one got dinner that night. Laurel wasn't even talking to Amy. He wished her and her mom would switch tactics on how to deal with him. 

“Tanner?” Amy said.

“Hm?”

Amy grabbed his shirt, yanking the boy close to his face, nostrils flaring as he struggled to control himself. Once again, things were coming crashing down, and Tanner’s annoying voice was icing on the cake.

“I will rip out your throat if you say another word,” Amy snarled.

Tanner shoved Amy away, scoffing. “As if you could,” he snapped.

Ignoring Tanner, Amy let him go and shifted at the lunch table so his back faced Tanner. If the kid was smart, he’d leave Amy alone. But Tanner wasn’t smart, and Amy was counting on it.

Amy let Tanner shove him from behind before he whirled around so fast that Tanner stumbled back. However, Amy was no longer looking at Tanner.

Laurel, who had been avoiding Amy the last couple of weeks since he revealed his secret to her when he invited her to a high school party, stood just behind Tanner with arms crossed. He thought she’d be excited to go; instead, her reply was smacking him across the face, bewildering him.

“You haven't talked to me in over a week - this is why, isn't it? Why would you take me somewhere that would just feel like my own house on a bad day?” she had spat at him before telling him to walk home alone. 

Now she was staring him down, daring him to beat Tanner. It would be easy – but that was the problem. As big as Tanner’s ego was, he stood no chance. Both Amy and Laurel knew that well enough from all the wrestling they’d done as small kids until biology and puberty got the better of Laurel.

So, Amy once again turned his back to Tanner, ignoring Tanner’s taunting and pushes until a teacher stepped in.

𖤐 

“Amy – what are doing, honey?” asked Irene after dinner. She’d put Laurel in charge of doing dishes, which Amy was thankful for, and Gael was asleep on the couch in the living room.

“Homework,” he grumbled, an open but untouched textbook laying in front of him.

“Amy, you know what I’m taking about,” she said sharply. “Don’t act like a child unless you want to be treated like one.”

Amy snorted at that.

“You obviously don’t want to be treated like one given…what has come to light,” she said more calmly but no less firmly. “However…give me your phone.”

Amy pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it in front of Irene.

“Amy!”

“You’re not my mom, Irene!” Amy shouted. “So stop acting like it!”

Laurel appeared in the doorway.

Amy quickly turned his head away from the both of them, red coloring his cheeks and ears.

“You can’t hide from me forever you know,” Laurel said, words dripping with poison, and she stalked away to her bedroom.

Irene sighed as she watched her daughter go before turning to Amy. “Amy,” she said. “There are two sides to life.”

“Isn’t the saying ‘There are two sides to every story’?” Amy picked at the wooden table.

“There is that saying, but life is more than just side and stories, Amy.”

“She doesn’t even know mine,” Amy retorted. “None of you do.” He wished he could disappear from the house and reappear anywhere else, but that’d given away who he really was and everything he’d worked do hard for would just become all the more complicated because he had no self-control.

Irene leaned closer to him, and Amy flinched away.

“Amy,” she said. “I know you really care about Laurel. She’s the only person – the only _girl_ – you’ve never left behind…until now.”

“I didn’t leave her behind,” grumbled Amy. “I simply kept a truth from her that’s better for her to not know. For obvious reasons.”

“And have you ever done that before?”

Amy wanted to shout yes, but he couldn’t. Not because it was true, but because he realized it wasn’t. She had, in fact, known he was a demon once upon a time, even if she didn’t now. She had simply forgotten it along with all her other child's memories.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Amy conceded. “Can we stop with this…whatever this is?”

Irene hardly look pleased, but this was enough to satiate her. She nodded, but didn’t move, staring at him.

 _I should’ve stuck to sex in my adult human form. Would’ve kept this simpler, more separate_ , Amy thought. For the first time since it all had blown up, he regretted making mischief in Laurel’s life.

“Well?” Irene said.

“What?” he asked. “I said fine. It means I give in and feel bad. Happy?”

“Laurel,” Irene replied pointedly.

“Fiiine,” Amy groaned, letting his head fall back. He begrudgingly stood and dragged his feet up the stairs to her door and knocked.

“What, Amy?” she called through the door.

He tried to open the door, but it was locked. Amy cast a quick glance around, then hovered his hand over the door and flicked his wrist. The door knob unlocked and turned, the door pushing forward an inch. He slipped into her room, making her gasp and jump up from the chair at her desk.

“How’d you-” she started angrily, moving to her bed.

“Look, you’re not changing so you can’t be angry,” he said quickly.

Laurel grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “It’s my personal space – of course I can be! Get out!”

 _Right. Personal space_ , he thought, catching the pillow.

“Don’t bother apologizing,” she spat.

“Why’re you so mad, Laurel?” he asked. “You’ve known me…all your life. I’ve never been one to behave-”

“This is a new low for you, Amy.”

Amy opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t!” she snarled, and he shut his mouth. Silence filled her room, and Amy could practically taste the tension. She stared at him.

Amy felt like a bug under a microscope. She stared at him with such conviction he wondered that if she stared any harder, would she be able to see his demon form? Panic bloomed inside his chest and his heart beat faster.

“I’m glad I still have this effect on you,” she said suddenly, snapping Amy back to the present situation.

“What?” he said.

“You look like a frightened puppy,” she said.

Amy didn’t know what to do or say.

“You want to know why I’m mad, Amy?” she said. It was rhetorical and he wasn’t enough of a moron to answer, allowing her to continue uninterrupted: “I thought you were different than the kids we’ve always hated – the cool, popular kids.” She stared him down accusatorially.

Amy gulped.

 _I’m worse_ , he thought. _I’m their idol. I can make their dreams come true. I whisper promises._

“You talk like you’re more mature than your age,” he said dumbly, not sure what else to say. It was too early to apologize; she’d just get mad all over again.

Laurel sat on her bed and put her pillow in her lap. “Aren’t I?” she challenged.

“Ironically, it would seem you’re more mature than me-”

“Of course, I am!” she retorted. “I don’t go chasing older boys just so I can brag!”

 _You don’t go chasing boys period_ , he thought.

“And don’t say I don’t chase boys,” she sneered.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I-Yeah,” he mumbled, looking away from her. "I was."

Laurel crossed her arms. “If that’s the only thing keeping me from being cool, then I’d rather not be cool. Why don’t we stop-”

“You want to stop being friends?” Amy’s head snapped up and his heart pounded against this chest like it was trying to burst from his skin. He wanted to vomit out of anxiousness. If she wanted to stop being friends, how could he shape and protect her if he would be forever stuck in this form around her, never able to change?

“I-“ Laurel’s brow furrowed and she looked away from him, searching for the right words. When she met his gaze again, it was with renewed determination. “I didn’t say that. I mean we should stop hanging out so much. You come to my house for what? Studying and movies every night? You’d rather be out partying. I’m almost in high school now, Amy. I can do things _on my own_. Besides, I’m not the only uncool kid in our class.”

“You think I’m the one who wants to stop hanging out?”

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends. I think you’re just another one of the kids who leave the unpopular ones behind.”

Amy recalled what he’d told her back in elementary school about Nikki: “She only wants to be friends with the cool kids. Maybe she’ll be friends with us at first, but they’re always the same. She’ll just leave us once she meets the popular kids.”

He’d been his own undoing in this. He had to get her back somehow, though. He _needed_ her soul. It was too valuable of one to let go of so easily. She could see things, sense things others couldn’t, and Amy sensed there was more power to be discovered.

Besides, he didn’t even want to imagine all the other demons that would flock to her freed soul, if her simply saying something now even affect the contract at all. He’d been extraordinarily nice to her all this time, for a demon. His job’s rules did keep him from pushing her towards suicide so he could claim her soul earlier, and the contract was the reason he had to stay glued to her side, but he think he’d done a…semi-moral job of it. He was _not_ going to let her risk it all when his reputation and her soul were at stake.

“I admit I was being a dick-”

“You were thinking with it,” Laurel muttered under her breath, looking down at her pillow.

Amy let this one slide as he moved towards her bed. She stood on the other side, staring him down with arms crossed. 

“Laurel,” he said. “I don’t want to stop being friends. I actually missed our-”

“You’re charming your way out, Amy,” she said.

 _Damn, she’s good_ , he thought.

Amy let out a breath.

“Okay, fine, I don’t know what you want me to say,” he admitted. “You don’t follow me blindly – or give into my charms.”

“Damn right.”

“I just don’t…I don’t…” Amy let out a breath as he muttered, “want to lose you.”

“What did you say?”

Amy sat on the edge of her bed with an annoyed looked. “You know what I said, Laurel,” he grumbled.

She smirked and leaned forward. “If you don’t want to lose me,” she said, “then don’t be a fucking moron. I don’t care who you screw, but don’t go ditching me every night all of a sudden.”

The revelation hit Amy like a punch to the gut.

“Ah,” he managed to cough out.

The corners of her mouth lifted but it wasn’t a very nice smile.

Laurel grabbed her second pillow. Amy saw it coming, thought he deserved it, but didn’t expect it to be with such force. With a loud thud, he tumbled head first to the ground. She didn’t look the least bit concerned.

 _Probably also my own fault_ , he thought, head dizzy.

“Everyone okay?” called Gael from downstairs.

Laurel narrowed her eyes at Amy.

“Yes!” he barked. “Just fine!”

She leaned over the corner of her bed, staring down at Amy. “Don’t mess with me again, Amy Stevens, and don’t think you didn’t deserve that.”

Amy stayed on the ground as he propped himself up on his elbows with a groan.

 _Soul with Nephilim blood. Soul with Nephilim blood. Soul with Nephilim blood_ , Amy repeated to himself.


	6. Les Anges Dans Nos Campagnes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Les Anges Dans Nos Campagnes" (traditional French son, unknown origin otherwise), which was the inspiration for "Angels We Have Heard on High"

HIGH SCHOOL (Part 1/6)

> Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

Hebrews 13:2

𖤐

“What do you think high school’s gonna be like?” Laurel asked as she and Amy walked onto campus for the first time since preview day. Their backpacks were heavy with textbooks to fill their lockers with before school started. He was also carrying a small bag for her filled with decorations for her locker.

“Hell for some, the best time of their lives for others,” Amy grumbled.

 _I’m just glad Tanner’s Dad has to send all his kids to his alma mater. So long as I ignore all of his messages, he’ll disappear from my life soon enough_ , he thought. The alma mater was a prestigious private school one town over. It was known for its sports as much as its academics, with a tuition well beyond the means of Laurel’s family and Amy’s “family.”

“What about us?”

“Definitely hell.”

Laurel and Amy exchanged glanced and burst into laughter. She stopped looking him in the eyes for the next few minutes. Amy noticed she’d gotten more sheepish and meeker these last couple of years, minus that time in eighth grade when he drove her to the brink of insanity. He assumed it had something to do with human puberty considering her home and school life hadn’t gone through any drastic changes.

“Well, I’m hoping for a fresh start,” Laurel announced with a deep inhale. “I think I should join some club or something. I’m…actually really excited for the club fair.”

“Why would you want that? Why are you excited? It’s high school! The only kids who peak in high school end up as deadbeats.”

“Let’s admit it, I was kind of an asshole of a kid.”

“You’re still a kid.”

“Just because you don’t peak in high school doesn’t mean it has to be awful.”

“Why are you optimistic? Stop it. It’s gross,” he said but wished he could take it back as soon as he’d said it. He hated that he regretted saying it, though, and didn’t bother to take his words back.

Luckily, Laurel rolled her eyes, not taking him seriously, and started walking ahead of him before spinning around to face him, walking backwards. “You sure that you’re not going to join the swim team?” she asked. “Could make it a fresh start for you, too.”

“You want me to?” he teased. “If you want me to strip for you, that can be arranged. You’ll need some dollar bills, though.”

Her cheeks reddened but she rolled her eyes and turned around. Just as she gotten quieter, she was more easily embarrassed and more self-conscious. Yet, she never caved into Amy’s teasing.

“Come on, I’d look so amazing in a speedo,” he said, thrusting his hips forward.

“When was the last time you worked out?” she shot back, taking a large step away from him until he stopped his weird air-grinding.

Amy opened his mouth, thinking he’d have a response, but she’d caught him. “Low blow,” he finally said. “Fine, in high school, I’m going to come back as an even better athlete!”

“Okay, Payton Manning, the office is this way, remember?” she said, turning in the opposite direction he had started to go in.

“Right,” he mumbled. “We can always just skip getting out schedules and lockers…and, just play hooky for all of high school.”

“Hooky? What’s that?”

Amy sighed. “I mean ditch.”

“No one says ‘play hooky.’” Her hand rose as she used her fingers to make air quotes.

“Do you even read?”

“Do you even work out?”

Once, again, the pair burst out laughing, but now Amy was determined to work out in order to make the jokes stop.

 _Not the swim team, though_ , he thought. It would just bring back all that he once had, all that he once was.

𖤐

“You gonna be okay to not follow me around like you have since…I don’t even remember when we met,” Laurel said with a light laugh.

“Wait, really?” Amy frowned.

Laurel furrowed her brow, but her smile didn’t leave. “And you do? Dude, we were how old?”

“No, I mean-” He shrugged, not sure what to say.

“I had a dream about it when I really small, but it’s really stupid…You were a young man and turned into a child,” she said, shaking her head in embarrassment. “Whatever. Go set up your locker before class. Don’t be late,” she said.

“What are you – my mom?” he said, covering up his shock from her revelation about actually remembering when they made the deal. It wasn’t the first time they’d met, but she would have definitely been too young to remember that. Besides, Amy knew it wasn’t unusual for childhood memories to get mixed up in the human mind.

Laurel ignored him and he knew she didn’t think highly of his “parents” considering they were “never around.”

“Good luck, okay?” she said and walked off to find her locker.

“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “See you.” They went separate ways, and Amy felt strange about it. They’d carpooled or he’d walk her home after going to all the same classes for so many years. Even in middle school, their lockers were within sight of one another.

 _So, this is what humans feel like growing up…No wonder teenagers are so moody_ , he thought as he reached his locker. When Amy went to pull the books and combo lock out of his backpack, he realized that he still had her bag of locker decorations.

“Why are you necessary?” he said to the bag as he retraced Laurel’s steps, knowing where to go only because they’d looked over and taken pictures of each other’s schedule and information as soon as they were given it. “Why?”

Amy stopped mid-stride when the old, fAmyliar feeling returned like an old childhood friend who you’d never liked but put up with at gatherings for the sake of your parents; something was off. He darted around the corner to where her locker should be – only to find that Laurel was fine. In fact, she seemed to be making friends with some other…girl. Amy walked quickly while keeping an impassive expression to keep from alarming the two girls.

“Amy, what-” Laurel began until she spotted her bag and snatched it from him. “Oh, thanks!”

Amy gave her a tight-lipped smile and looked over at Laurel’s new friend: she was taller than him, even a little gangly, but her eyes and air shone with intelligence and confidence.

“I’m Razia, but you can call me Raz,” she said. She seemed to have the same tense feeling as Amy because her introduction was as stiff as they come.

“Amy,” he said.

An awkward silence fell over them as Amy and Razia studied one another. Laurel hardly noticed as she set up her locker, pulling out various magnets and pictures of Fall Out Boy, 5 Seconds of Summer, My Chemical Romance, Panic! At the Disco, American Horror Story, Dexter, The Walking Dead, and Supernatural.

“Are you new here?” Amy asked.

“Yes, my family and I recently moved,” she said.

“For what?”

“My Dad transferred-”

“To where?”

This amused Razia, making her smirk, irritating Amy.

“Uh, here,” said Razia.

Amy ground his teeth but said nothing more.

“When did you guys move?” asked Laurel.

She hung a mirror on the door of her locker, and Amy frowned.

 _Why would she want that?_ He knew why, but it didn’t puzzle or irk him any less.

“In the summer. It was easier for me to transfer schools that way, a clean break.” Razia spoke to Laurel but kept her eyes locked on Amy.

Amy scowled at Razia. “I have to go to class,” he said. “How about lunch, Laurel?”

“Yea, that’s fine,” Laurel said as she shut her locker door. “Unless you plan on playing hooky.”

“Ha-ha,” Amy said dryly as he backed away.

“See you later, loser,” Laurel said and turned to Razia. “Care to join?”

“I’d love to!”

Amy and Razia exchanged one last burning glance before he stalked back to his locker before Laurel could notice his souring mood.

 _Guardian angels! They also have to ruin everything_ , Amy thought bitterly.

𖤐

“Did you sleep at all last night?” asked Amy when he saw Laurel one morning as they gathered near Laurel’s and Razia’s lockers.

“It’s only the first year,” Razia murmured in awe. Awe of Laurel’s stupidity or strength or both, Amy wasn’t sure.

“It’s almost mid-terms, plus I have my duties to lit-mag, student council, and there was track practice yesterday,” Laurel answered with a yawn.

“You sound like a third year,” Razia said.

“Why don’t you just stop one of those things?” Amy asked. “Take a break, get a C in one of your classes, something.”

“I need to get into a good college,” said Laurel.

“What about your mental health?” asked Razia. “You really sound like a junior.”

“You guys know this is normal, right?” Laurel asked, suddenly wide awake with worry. “It’s not like when our parents were in college. It’s a lot more expensive and a lot more competitive!”

Razia and Amy exchanged glances, and Laurel groaned.

“I’m talking to brick walls,” she muttered.

“Then how do you know you’re even going to get into a good school if you’re considered average?” asked Amy.

Razia elbowed him in the ribs.

“Easy on the ribs,” he said.

“Then don’t say idiotic things,” she hissed. “You should support Laurel.” 

“Laurel should also consider her mental health,” Amy hissed back.

Razia looked torn, and Amy inwardly smirked.

Razia could support Laurel’s endeavors, but then look like a jerk who doesn’t care about her mental health. Or, she could push for Laurel to find a better balance, but then Amy would pull the ‘You should be thinking of her future!’ card down the line. She glared at Amy, well aware of what he was doing.

“Guys!” snapped Laurel. “Quite taking about me like I’m not here! You two do it all the time!”

“Sorry,” said Razia.

“Well, Laurel, what do you care about more: your health or your future?” asked Amy bluntly.

“Why does it have to be both?” asked Razia. “You’re making it out to be one or the other when it doesn’t have to be!”

“But it feels that way!” Laurel yelled, catching the attention of the students around them. “And _stop. Talking. About. Me. Like. That!_ ” She slammed the locker shut.

Amy looked over at Razia and wiggled his eyebrows in victory. Razia fumed, fingers clenching the textbooks she held against her chest.

“Laurel,” said Amy. “I think you should choose.”

“Choose what?” she grumbled, leaning back against the lockers with loud metal creaks.

“I don’t know, that’s up to you,” he said. “I guess…whatever feels right?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “So helpful.”

“I think you can find a balance,” Razia said through pursed lips. “However…finding that balance…might mean dropping something…for now.”

“I was kind of hoping you would say I should settle for B’s,” Laurel muttered.

“That’s not a bad idea-” began Razia.

“Except for the mental health part,” Amy argued. He looked at Laurel, locking eyes with her. “You have been giving everything your all since we started here. Wow, yay, amazing, blah, blah, blah, good for you. Point is: if you don’t give something up, you’re going to be like this for the rest of high school. Plus, classes get harder, and we all know you’re going to want to take AP’s. What then?

“You’ll be living on caffeine, maybe taking sleeping pills – probably not, but never know. You’re going to take on more and more, never thinking it’s enough. You’re going to try to start fresh in college just like you’re doing now, but then you’re going to be thinking about graduate school, and the cycle starts all over again. I think it’s better to try to stop it earlier on so it’s not so hard later on, because later on you won’t have the balls to do it and you’ll feel even more pressure from the cycle but also you’ll feel more pressure about leaving it. You’ll tell yourself that you’ve gotten used to the stress of the cycle and you’ll fall into this unbreakable habit, turning into a crazy lady.”

“You’re like my brain on a really off day,” Laurel murmured, eyes narrowed as she studied Amy, leaning closer.

Amy had no response.

 _She’s weird without sleep and hyped up on caffeine_ , he thought but didn’t lean away, his heart rate picking up.

She abruptly pulled away from him. She sniffled and said, “Anyways, I see your guys’ point…Maybe I should drop lit-mag. It’s not taking up the most amount of time, but it _is_ doing the least for me. Not like I’m going to try to go into publishing or writing later on.”

Amy nodded, but still felt confused about the whole situation and what exactly he’d just done.

𖤐

“I think we may have switched roles…and that you were right, Amy,” Razia whispered on the way to class. She wasn’t annoyed or mad; in fact, she sounded happy. “Don’t get me wrong, I hate that I was the bad guy in this, but you – the demon – actually pushed for her to take better care of herself.”

“Yes, but now wait until senior year when she gets those letters from college admin’s,” said Amy. “I won’t be the unsung hero when the financial aid given to her isn’t enough. There will always be better options when you compare one thing to another, which humans _always_ do. She’ll have no choice but to go to that local junior college.”

“Then you’ll have to live with that,” said Razia. “And attend it with her. Do you think you can do that?” She cocked her head before walking away to class.

Amy hadn’t thought about that.

 _It’s necessary for the soul. Necessary for the soul. Necessary for the soul_ , he thought as he dragged his feet to class.

𖤐

Razia opened her locked, only for the mirror to drop. The magnet rolled off a foot away. She pulled out her glue and worked to resetting the magnet on her mirror.

“What is that?” Amy whispered in Razia’s ear.

She spun around to smack him, only for him to dodge. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he laughed.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped. Then a smirk spread over her thin lips. “By the way, have you seen or talked to Laurel since Saturday?”

Amy frowned, standing straight. She was taller than him, but that didn’t matter.

“No. Why?” he demanded.

“You’ve got competition,” Razia said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ha! That’s-no, not possible,” Amy said. “I don’t even consider you competition, what-” Laurel came up to her locker, another – mysterious, to Amy – boy at her side. “What is _that_?”

 _It_ had spiky, brunette hair lightened by weekends at the beach, tanned and freckled skin kissed by the sun, and eyes the color of sage.

“Ignore him,” Laurel told the boy. “He’s had something up his since we were in diapers.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” Amy said and crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Going to introduce your boytoy?”

“I’m Michael,” said the boy, holding out his hand.

Amy ignored the hand and glanced over at Razia. “No wonder you approve of him,” he remarked.

Razia rolled her eyes. “It’s not because of the name,” she said.

“I was taking about the hand,” said Amy. “That’s a good point, too, but what if I held out my hand?” Amy held his hand out to Razia, palm up. “Care to dance?”

Razia swatted his hand away as though it were a mere pesky fly. 

“Don’t let him bother you, Michael,” said Razia. She stepped up to him and with her height, looked down at him. “We trust you’ll treat Laurel well.”

Laurel pushed past a confused Michael to shoot her friends a warning glare. “Who are you two? My parents? Knock it off. Come on, Michael, let’s go to class.”

Michael followed at her side like a well-trained dog.

“How long do you think they’ll last?” whispered Amy. “Want to take bets?”

“I certainly do not!” Razia said. “However…if he doesn’t…become more confident in himself, I think Laurel might get bored before sophomore year starts.”

“It’s March. You’d really give it that long?”

“Probably…not,” she said, gently shutting her locker. “Still…he’s nice.”

“Nice? He has the spine of a sponge!”

“And you have what?” Razia spun around.

“Charms, looks?”

“So, you do like Laurel?”

“What? Stop that!”

“Such a shame,” Razia hummed gleefully, smugly. She walked around him.

“Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean-” Amy started as he followed her.

“No, I mean such a shame she doesn’t fall for either of those with you,” smirked Razia.

“She said that?” Amy half-circled the angel and peered in front of her. Her expression gave away nothing, though.

“You really don’t know the power of girl talk, do you?”

“I haven’t had to consider it until now,” he admitted. “So, she did say that?”

Razia shifted the textbooks she held from one arm to the other. “I didn’t say that,” she said.

“Ha! But you did say girls talk!”

Razia rolled her eyes. “Amy, girls talk doesn’t mean she said that. And what is said between girls stays between girls, if the girls are real friends at all.”

“Damn,” Amy said as he studied Razia carefully. She was enjoying this too much. “She never said anything, did she?”

“Can’t tell you?” She turned at the corner of the J building.

“I’m rubbing off on you – you’re enjoying this!” Amy smiled as he moved to her other side as the space narrowed between her and the building corner.

“Can’t I have some fun? It’s _you_ after all,” she said.

Amy stepped in front of her, cutting off her path. She was unfazed by how close he was getting until he said:

“Didn’t know you felt that way-”

She put her palm over his face, smothering his words as well as breath, and walked past him.

“You know, you’re only like this when Laurel isn’t around,” grumbled Amy. “I don’t know whether it’s more or less fun.”

“Ditto,” Razia agreed. “I’d rather just be myself. But here you are, still trying to ruin her life every once in a while. Could you just stick to either helping her or not? You drive me crazy.”

Now Amy was confused. “Wait, so this one’s your fake personality?”

“Amy, for someone who has lived so long and… appreciated women so…much,” Razia bit out with a sigh. “You really don’t know much about them.”

“I didn’t have to,” he admitted. “Just needed to know what one, made them feel good or two, got me a contract. In that order.”

“You’re a pig.”

“Thank you.”

“No wonder you’re also a blockhead.”

Amy snorted and ground his teeth. “I’m going to my class,” he snarled. “This is torture.”

“Thank God!” Razia said.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Amy said and blew a kiss.

Razia dodged it. “I won’t,” she retorted. 

The gave each other tight lipped smiles before stomping off.


	7. When The Sun Is Darkened And The Moon Gives No Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from When the Sun is Darkened (Christopher Idle, year unknown), taken from Matthew 24:29, "Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken" (KJV).

HIGH SCHOOL (Part 2/6)

> So do not fear, for I am with you.

Isaiah 41:10

𖤐

Amy woke up to the ringing of his phone. The only person who actually called him was Laurel. Without checking it was her, he answered and groaned.

The sound of crying made Amy open his eyes wide.

“What happened?” he asked, sitting up, looking to see if he’d laid some clothes nearby. He hadn’t, so he stood in search. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” she sobbed.

 _Is this a trick?_ he thought, pausing.

“Michael and I…we broke up,” Laurel said, and sobbed harder. “Can I come over?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said.

“Okay, coo’, because I’m already at your place,” she admitted quietly. “Can you open the door?”

 _Fuck_ , he thought, looking around the nice apartment – not the apartment from his human life. Using his powers recently had taken extreme concentration, which he didn’t have right now. He needed Vergil.

“I’m…out getting groceries,” he lied.

 _Damn, now I’m going to have to bring back groceries_ , he thought.

“It’s late. Didn’t you just buy some?” she asked, the distraction calming her slightly. “Anyways, I’ll wait.”

“Okay, see you soon, bye.” He hung up, and quickly pulled on some lightweight sweats and a zip-up hoodie. It was summer, after all, no need for the black jeans and thick, navy sweaters.

Amy breathed in and out before putting all attention on his hand, and he opened his palm. The sound of sobbing pervaded the back of his mind, however, and he screamed through clenched teeth as nothing happened.

A string of curses left his lips, and the furry was enough to allow him to focus on the one thing he was so upset over: Again, he opened his palm, and this time a flame burst forth.

Amy sighed and told Vergil to send him to the apartment lobby – with a bag of groceries, and to take some of the (newly bought) ones out of the fridge.

“Put in ice cream!” he shouted just before hanging up.

Razia had sat him down during one of Laurel and Michael’s lunch dates and given him step-by-step instructions on the proper way to take care of Laurel in case Michael did not turn out to be the innocent kid they all thought. She had taken this part of her job as guardian angel very seriously, but Amy had laughed it off. Now, however, he understood why Razia had been so serious.

A heavy weight descended on his arm, and Amy knew it was Vergil’s own F-U, considering the groceries hadn’t been as heavy in previous times. Then again, he’d given Vergil more time to prepare in previous times.

Amy stalked through the lobby doors and went around to his apartment, racing up the stained steps and down the static, beige hallway to where Laurel stood in front of his door. Her eyes were red and puffy, dried tears streaking her cheeks. She ran over to him and threw her arms around his waist. Seeing it coming, he lifted his arms, as difficult as it was with the heavy bag. Arms free, Amy reached into the bag and fished out the ice cream. He dangled it in front of Laurel, who snatched it up with both hands.

“Thank you, Amy! How’d you know to do this?”

“I know women!” Amy grabbed the key which had magically appeared in his pocket just like the groceries on his arm.

“Razia told you, didn’t she?”

Amy unlocked the door and pushed the door open with a nod. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“It’s very wise of you to admit that,” she praised.

“What can I say? I’m a wise man,” Amy shrugged and followed her into the apartment.

“Can I help you?” she asked, motioning to the groceries.

Amy set down the bag on the table, and they started moving the food to the fridge and pantry.

“How many rotisserie chickens did you get?” Laurel asked as she looked in the bag. “I knew you hated vegetables, but still.”

Amy paused, thinking of something to say. “I’m a growing boy,” he said dumbly.

“I take it, you’ve been able to keep up with the work-out routine you set last fall?” she asked, helping him move the three chickens. “Because, like, wow, dude.”

“Yeah,” Amy said. “I’m taking it very seriously.” Which was true. It helped him to pass the time and keep himself fit, but until then, it had never included three whole chickens.

“It’s time,” Laurel said ominously. She pushed the ice cream pint to the center of the table.

“Not yet,” he said, moving a box of tissues and the roll of paper towels in front of her. “First, spoons. Don’t want you scooping it out with your hands like a caveman-”

“Cavewoman.”

“Like a cavewoman,” he said, and she sat at the table. “Secondly…do I do the movie and popcorn now?”

Laurel shook her head, a small but sad smile lifting the corners of her lips. “No,” she said. “You wait until I’ve told you everything, otherwise the movie would get in the way.”

Amy nodded, passing her a spoon. “Makes sense,” he agreed and sat down next to her. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“I loved him!” she blurted out, shocking Amy.

 _Did we skip a few years? We’re still only fifteen, right? Razia never mentioned this part_ , Amy thought, alarmed.

Laurel burst into tears and pulled the ice cream to her chest. She stabbed at it like a murdering maniac until she got something resembling a piece of ice cream on the spoon. Still crying, she ate the ice cream looking wholly miserable.

 _So much for sharing_ , Amy thought, having gotten over his initial shock.

“I really liked him – so much! He did everything I wanted to do without complaining,” she cried. “He was so sweet! But, I know it had to end…His grandpa passed away. He couldn’t focus on our relationship. He and his grandpa were so close. Did you know we hadn’t talked for a whole month before he finally got the courage to say something? Can you believe that?”

At first, Amy sat stiffly next to Laurel with his hands in his lap, clutching his spoon as if it gave him some support through his own hardship, or whatever it was that he was going through. However, by the end of the third hour of listening to her sob-story, Amy had come to a a handful of realizations about human female habits. He’d also relaxed and only listened on and off. After all, Laurel was mostly repeating herself, just wording it differently. That was one of the epiphanies.

The other one was that she – the female – would ask questions, but they were always – _always_ – rhetorical. The third was that even if he wasn’t listening, he needed to pretend to be unless he wanted a swift smack to the head proceeded by heavier sobbing over not only Michael but how boys just never listen. The fourth was that as soon as it seemed to end, the female had calmed and the crying had stopped – something would click in that strange female mind, and the sobbing would start all over again. The fifth was that he basically needed to take on Michael’s spineless personality in this dreadful time. The sixth was that, as ridiculous as the female was being, her feelings were contagious, because by the end her friends felt for her. The seventh was that, considering all of this, females must be something more than human. Laurel certainly was, but this wasn’t her blood making her like this…or maybe it was. Maybe it was all female blood. Amy didn’t want to know.

By the last half hour, a blanket had found its way to Laurel’s shoulders and her sobbing had subsided into what seemed like some kind of hyperventilating disease mixed with whimpering. The entire ice cream pint was gone, having been replaced by a mug of hot cocoa.

Sniffling, Laurel sipped on her drink. She seemed to have calmed down, and Amy waited for the next wave of sobs to come crashing down on her…but they didn’t. He stared at the heaping pile of tissues. If the box wasn’t empty, it probably would be after one or two more sheets.

Laurel had fallen silent, her eyes hooded and sinking into her dark circles. She looked up at him, and Amy’s heart squeezed. Without a word, he got up, turned on a Disney movie, and heat up some popcorn as Laurel picked herself up and dragged herself over to the couch, wrapping the blanket around herself like a cocoon.

While he set up the movie, it occurred to him that once the initial awkwardness had passed, the rest had come naturally to him. He hadn’t thought once about Razia’s tips. To top it off, seeing Laurel slowly feel better even if it meant becoming a shell of herself for one night, had made Amy feel…more than good. He felt warm, and not just because Laurel finally split with that tweeb.

At first, Amy was bewildered then confused, so consumed in his own thoughts the he didn’t noticed Laurel walked past him into the living room. As he put the popcorn in the microwave, he hated himself for feeling that way. Whether it be exhaustion or true resignation, by the time the microwave dinged, he didn’t feel upset. Any negative feelings were washed away at the sight of the cocooned, half-asleep Laurel on the couch. She looked so much older and yet so young, and Amy thought for the first time that there’s no point in hating himself for feeling that way. It would be a wasted effort.

She was sleep against his side within minutes of them settling down on the couch, and his arm went numb draped over her shoulders. Exhausted in his own right, Amy was quick to follow suit, leaving the popcorn untouched and the movie to run through unwatched.

𖤐

_I can’t take anymore of this. These classes get worse every year. Kill me already_ , thought Amy. The sophomore trigonometry teacher Mr. Conners was famous for putting his students to sleep.

He didn’t like to use his powers as they gave away his location to any other spiritual beings, but every once in a while, school felt too much like torture in Hell. As long as no one was hurt, there was no harm in setting the fire alarm off, right?

Putting his hand under his desk, Amy opened his palm. Nothing happened.

Frowning, Amy closed and opened his hand a number of times until denial changed to doubt which morphed to terror.

 _No, no, no, no_ , he thought, slamming his fist on the desk.

“Amy?” called Mr. Connors.

No longer caring, Amy stood in the middle of class and stormed out, slamming the classroom door behind him. Mr. Connors yelled at Amy to come back but was too old to give chase. As a teacher, he also couldn’t lay a finger on Amy. The call to the office would be too late; Amy would have already hopped the back fence.

Desperate and frightened and not caring if someone saw or another demon discovered him, Amy made a gesture that looked like he was trying to throw something. Normally, a flame would burst forth, creating a portal. This time, nothing happened. Amy took a shaky breath in and out, then began shouting a string of curses. Then, he screamed, collapsing to the ground.

“This isn’t happening,” he murmured, staring at his empty palms. Angry, frightened tears welled up. The sudden wave of such strong emotions intensified every feeling and emotion, weighing him down. Burning strings wrapped around him, pulling towards Hell, neither able to drag him through the border between the human world not able to release him.

“This isn’t happening,” he murmured, shaking in the middle of a stranger’s lawn.

𖤐

“Sir?” Vergil called softly into the old apartment. He could sense his master’s tension; he could taste the fear in the air. Gulping, he made his way to the master bedroom and knocked.

There was no response, so Vergil hesitantly entered. Amy was curled up under the midnight blue-black covers.

“We have to find a way to break this deal,” said Amy, his voice scratchy and cracking, muffled from under the covers. “And I want the angel dead!”

“Yes, Sir,” whispered Vergil. Having been summoned instead of called through flame, the butler had known something was wrong immediately. His master was becoming more human with each passing year.

𖤐

Amy coughed and wheezed from under Razia, recovering from the wind being knocked out of him and his vision flashing white for a moment. She flipped him, slamming him against the floor of her white-picket-fence-house, which was as fake as his apartment.

Razia leaned down and murmured, “This is why you need me, demon. You’ve become weak, only barely stronger than your right hand. Yet, Laurel’s angel genes still attract demons to her like flies.”

Amy growled but didn’t fight her anymore, already feeling the pain from the ass-whopping he’d just received.

“You can get off now,” he grumbled. “You’re crushing my ribs.”

Razia stood up and held out her hand. He slapped it away angrily, sitting up in her room.

“At least I threw you down on my fuzzy rug instead of the wood floor in the kitchen or the concrete patio out back,” she said.

“Yeah, makes me feel so much better,” he snarled.

“I let you stay in her life – mostly because I knew she could take you. She proved that in the middle of eighth grade, didn’t she?” Razia said, beAmyng. “You’re only of the very few demons who are still alive to say that. You’re here to take her soul, though it seems to be taking yours, too. Despite that, you continue to protect her. Now I’m here to protect her because…well, you know.”

“I hate angels,” grumbled Amy.

“We’re not really fans of you either,” she said, sitting down next to him. “However, I do like that you’re becoming more and more moral, more and more human, more and more like your old self-”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Amy yelled.

“Look, Amy,” said Razia. “You’re going to have to put up with me from now. I’m no childhood friend of Laurel; I know she’s going to be more partial to you because she has no idea about either of us. Still, it will be better to keep it that way-”

“I know!” Amy moved to his feet like an old man would stand up from a couch. “Just don’t get in my way, and we won’t have an issue.”

“Ditto,” Razia said, holding out her hand.

Amy didn’t appreciate the irony as much as Razia seemed to be enjoying it and resentfully took and shook her hand.

𖤐

“Sir,” Vergil said quietly. “Miss Laurel is at your other apartment. She also has been calling you.”

“I don’t want to see the reason I’ve lost everything,” Amy snarled from underneath the comforter in his master bedroom. Yet, he regretted the words. He wanted to cry, to be…comforted. His butler was not going to be the person he showed any vulnerability to, however.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Vergil!”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Send me to the other apartment and unlock the front door,” he said, making himself sound angry in order to hide that he wanted to scream and cry and rip the sheet apart.

“Yes, Sir.”

Next thing Amy knew, the silky covers ruffled and shifted to cotton ones and the bed beneath him downsized from queen to twin. He could hear the knocking on the apartment door.

“Amy? Are you there?” Laurel’s voice called out.

“Just come in!” Amy snapped. His rough voice carried though the two-bedroom apartment.

He heard her open the door and walk to his bedroom. “Amy?” she murmured.

“What?” he snapped, pulling the covers tighter as the tears welled up.

“What happened?”

“My mom,” he spat.

“Do…you want to talk about it?”

“She’s gone,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

“What?” she yelled angrily. “She-” She stopped herself and took a deep breath, but he took comfort in her anger “-really is the worst,” she finished more calmly but no less angrily.

She sat down and he felt the edge of his bed dip under her weight.

“Amy,” she soothed, putting a hand on top of the ball of blankets that he had become.

The feeling of being lost hit him all over again, again and again as it had over the past week. He’d ditched school and ignored her texts and calls for days on end. He had nothing, not even himself, now. He’d hit rock bottom.

Amy lifted the covers and bent over as if he was going to wretch. Laurel moved over to him and took his head in her arms, rubbing his exposed back. He screamed into the blankets, and she draped herself over him as if he knew that no matter what he did, he felt so exposed and helpless. She made herself into a wall for him. Even if she didn’t know details and he refused to give any, she didn’t question him.

Amy buried his face into her side and found himself crying. When he realized what he was doing, that he was showing vulnerability in front of someone for the first time, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He never clung so tightly onto anything or anyone before. She stayed draped across his back, his protective wall, no matter how uncomfortable it was, for hours as he cried and screamed and cried until he wore himself out and fell asleep. Even then, Laurel didn’t leave Amy’s side. She lay next to him in his twin bed, holding him. The room was so small that it barely fit his bed and makeshift closet, bringing them even closer.


	8. Unless Thou Help Me, I Must Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Take Me As I Am" (Eliza H. Hamilton, 1878)

HIGH SCHOOL (Part 3/6)

> You shall not murder. 

Exodus 20:13

𖤐

The recent events played over and over and over again in Amy’s mind, just as they had been for the last three months.

Razia pretended to be ignorant like Laurel, who didn’t pick up on Amy’s unusual amount of sourness the first few days. She assumed it had to do with his mother and let the issue alone.

The truth was that he’d given up working out, even lounging around, and ditched over half of his classes to hunt down some way to void the contract. He wasn’t strong enough to kill Razia, so eliminating her out of spite was out of the question.

Now he needed Vergil more than ever. All the contracts he’d made previously, the power he’d gained from collecting their souls…all gone. Vergil had done a good enough job of hiding Amy’s secret, keeping any unwanted and overly greedy, minor demons at bay, and Razia didn’t seem to be running off telling her comrades. Or perhaps they simply didn’t care.

Well, they would soon, because Amy had to face the fact that Laurel was the only way to void the contract. He had been caught up in his own problems, but he wasn’t ignorant to hers: with Amy gone and Razia not able to stop her, Laurel had started spending more time on her studies and school activities – too much time.

She was back to a lack of balance and overabundance of stress. It had been three months, and she was already starting to spiral out of control, but now they were going to be juniors soon enough. Her activities and grades were more than important for college. Amy knew she was suffering, knew that she’d already had one panic attack, and yesterday had her second one but was keeping it secret. He knew only because of their deal. The very thing he wanted to destroy was the one thing helping him so much, telling him precisely when to strike.

 _No amount of Nephilim ancestry is worth losing everything. How can I even collect it if I need Vergil to do anything? It’s not like I could use him to my advantage; he’s no contract demon_ , Amy thought.

He opened his palm, and for the millionth time, nothing happened. All of it…gone. He cursed himself and Laurel. He shouldn’t have ignored all the signs, he knew, but blamed her.

Dragging himself off the couch, Amy stepped up to the fireplace where the flames crackled, and he summoned Vergil.

𖤐

_Laurel walked through the high school._ It was a sunny day with a light breeze. It must have been the weekend, because it was completely deserted, or maybe she was dreaming of summer, when she’d finally be free for a few months. She and Amy and Razia could go to the beach or find some abandoned building to illegally spend the night in, which had been the highlight of their summer last year. Perhaps they could save up some money and go camping. No doubt she’d need to start a job.

“You think too much,” said a voice behind her.

Smiling, she spun around. “Amy-” she stopped and stared.

He wasn’t a high school boy anymore, but a young man. He didn’t have that…thing that he could hardly call a beard but was clean shaven. His dark hair was messy, as it always was, but it was a little shorter and better taken care of. This was styled messy, not bedhead messy. He was exactly how he looked in her childhood dream where they first met…except shorter and less intimidating, now that she’d grown and known him for so many years. Everything felt fAmyliar and comfortable about him, except his eyes. Once dark and warm, they now glinted at her with a sheen of amber and anger. He blinked, and the anger was gone.

She wondered if it had been her imagination. This was already a strange enough dream as it was.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Killing demons and the like,” he said with total honesty.

“Is that what you are in this dream?” She laughed.

“That’s what I’ve always been, Laurel.”

She stopped laughing and stared at him.

Amy walked towards her like a panther would when sneaking up behind its prey. She swallowed as he reached her and placed a hand on her neck, the tips of his fingers reaching behind her ear and his thumb circling her cheek. She shivered.

“You poor thing,” he cooed.

“Why am I the poor one?” she demanded. She was frozen to the spot, unable to move though her mind screamed at her to smack his hand away.

“You could just let…it all…go,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I-”

“You could be free, from all the pressure, Laurel,” he promised, his hand dropping to her shoulder and lips to under her jaw. His touch was as light as a feather yet left a burning sensation.

Amy moved back to look Laurel in the eyes. He smiled a bittersweet smile down at her, his comforting hands on her shoulders.

“Just say you want be released from all of your pain and misery and loneliness,” he coaxed, his hand dragging down her arm, sending goosebumps all over her body. He took her hand and held it. “You won’t be alone when it happens. It won’t hurt. You don’t have to be afraid. You just have to…let go.”

Laurel’s lips parted. “Okay,” she breathed.

Amy let go of her hand, and suddenly she felt cold all over.

“Amy?” she said, alarmed. “Amy, I can’t move. I’m cold. Amy-”

“Stop it,” he snarled suddenly, revealing pointed teeth.

Panic filled every fiber of Laurel, but still she could not move. She tried and tried, looking down at her immobile body, then looked up in search of help – only to be given answers and the truth for a split second before her vision blurred and went black. She couldn’t see a form but could feel something sinister and alive lingering in the fire that broke out where Amy had been standing.

“Amy, I can’t see. Amy? What’s happening?” Tears streamed down Laurel’s face and she shuddered as heat grazed against her leg. Her world was black, but she knew she was being hunted.

When the first flame lapped at her leg, she screamed, “Amy!”

Then everything was still.

Laurel woke with a start for the first time in her life. She could feel that her face was wet, and this time she burst into tears in the real world. She had to be honest with herself: in the dream, Amy had driven her to the brink of death. Murder or suicide, she wasn’t sure.

But she knew now that she would never let herself get like this again. She thought of how devasted it would leave her parents; she was all the that had. All three of them had been through enough hardships.

 _When I go to school tomorrow, I’m going to ask the counselor for weekly meetings, and from now on I will do better – not for school, but for me_ , she promised herself. She shivered, hugging herself. She reached over to her nightstand, fumbling around until she found her phone to text Razia.

Amy leaped through the fireplace in the form of a teenager as he fell against the couch, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He wiped his face, having felt the hot tears, and sat against the bottom of the couch. He never felt so weak or perverted, not even when he’d first discovered his loss of power. A weight of immense guilt and self-hatred fell so hard on him that he slipped down against the couch until he was laying on the ground.

Not a single shred of his being was left feeling so un-demon-like.

Not unexpectedly, fingers closed around his throat and Razia appeared on top of him.

“Sending Vergil to distract me was bad enough – you had to try to kill her!” Razia shrieked, squeezing at him throat. 

“I wasn’t going-”

“No, it was worse – you were trying to convince her to do it to herself.”

Tears stung at the corners of Amy’s eyes and as he remembered Laurel would do, he blinked them back. He didn’t respond.

“Was this why you lied about finally joining a swim team outside of school? You didn’t want us to see until the big competition, and it took away time from hanging out with her. Then your family started having problems, your mom was back, and dealing with her took time away even from school – that’s what you told Laurel, wasn’t it? You’re lucky she doesn’t see through the lies, didn’t find out like in eighth grade,” Razia sneered. The angel bent down until their noses almost grazed and her breath covered his face. “You couldn’t look her in the face. Pathetic. I see through you.”

Amy turned his head away. “Now that you have beaten the already dead horse, would you care to get off me and leave? Or would you like to pull some more demonic tricks?” he asked.

Razia looked enraged. “You let her sink so low, and now you’re just going to profit from it, aren’t you?” She looked as though she too was going to cry, but unlike Laurel and Amy, she was not above showing her emotions. They streamed down her flushed cheeks. “You may not have all your party tricks, but you never did lose your qualities as a demon, Amy.” Wiping the tears that fell, Razia stood up. “I’m glad it hurts you now,” she spat before disappearing.

He knew everything that Razia had said was right, but for now, he wanted nothing but to lay on the floor, wallowing in his misery.

𖤐

It was a few days later when Amy finally returned to school. He knew he looked awful, felt awful, but it was time. There was no point in putting off the inevitable.

Razia acted as though nothing had transpired, but he could see the bitterness in her eyes return when Laurel wasn’t looking. Angels didn’t hate, but if they did, Amy knew she would have hated him. She used to gaze at him with pity and tolerance as though she thought she understood him. He relished in this newfound almost-hatred. It confirmed what he thought about himself.

Laurel had told him she had something to tell him at lunch, that she hadn’t texted or called him so she wouldn’t bother him, plus these were things better said face-to-face.

So, here they were, sitting at lunch like old times, except it felt nothing like old times to any of them. A somber blanket had descended over them, and Laurel was the first to break it.

“You can tell me what happened to you whenever you want to talk about it,” Laurel said. “However, I know that’s not going to be any time soon – maybe never – so I’ll say my stuff first…I’ve decided to start therapy. I saw the school counselor, and she recommended a few people. I showed them to my parents. We’re going to check them out over the next week or so. I don’t think I have…anything very serious, I just feel weak and out of control, but it’s gotten bad enough that I should do something…which means…I’m going to quit maybe one or two things. I’m not sure what, everything is kind of on pause so I can think. The counselor said it’s generally best to keep busy, but not too busy, so I have to figure out what the fuck that even means.

“It also means…spending less time with you guys, I think,” she added. “I know I’m going to step back from my friendships from track and the like; I don’t need to be hanging out with everyone anymore, but I do still want to hang out with you guys. You two are the most important for me.”

Amy winced and held back a grimace. Razia hugged Laurel, whose eyes were watering. She blinked as her angel wrapped her arms around her.

Laurel took let out a deep breath of relief, rocking gently in Razia’s embrace. “I have to continue college app’s and the like. School isn’t exactly optional, but the amount I take on is,” Laurel said. She turned to Amy and smiled.

“Someday I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me what happened between you and your mom.” When Amy didn’t respond, didn’t look at her, she continued, “Anyways, this whole situation has made me realize just how important college really is if I want to find a good job, so I can’t slack off too much with that-”

“Laurel,” Razia warned.

Laurel held up her hands. “But!” she said. “I am not going to let my fear of that control me again. It’s going to take practice, though, and I’ll probably need your help and support. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” said Razia, throwing her arms around Laurel.

Laurel and Razia, still hugging each other, turned to Amy.

“Duh,” he managed to say.

𖤐

“Do you think Amy’s all right?” Laurel whispered to Razia in their AP Biology class.

“He probably had it pretty tough with his mom suddenly coming back and taking over again,” she whispered back.

“How’d you know that?” Laurel stared at Razia.

Razia pulled back slightly. “I don’t,” she said quickly but calmly to cover the mistake. “I’m just assuming.”

“Oh,” Laurel said. “You’re probably right, though. She’s so awful. Can’t this be considered some form of abuse or manipulation? I really want to call the police, but the last time I said that to Amy…didn’t go over so well…He’s never going to talk about it, I know it, and if I push him, we’ll just fight. We’ve only every fought once, if you’re not counting all the petty childish fights we had as kids, but that time it was his fault. This isn’t like that time. He’s so…private, even with me and my family, his own second family. Any problems he has are played off as jokes until something like this happens, then he just turns into a shell-”

“Laurel!” scolded their teacher. “Care to share whatever it is your discussing with the whole class, given how important is seems to be?”

“Power abuser,” grumbled Laurel as she and Razia had no choice but to focus on their schoolwork again. 

𖤐

“Amy!” sobbed Laurel into the phone. It wasn’t the first time she’d called him in tears – the first time was when her first “crush” (if you could call it that) embarrassed her in a neighborhood game of Sardines back in fifth grade – and it wasn’t the first time she sounded so urgent – a number of times she was desperate to escape her house – but it was the first time she’d sounded so urgent _and_ was crying so hard.

She was stressed enough trying to narrow down which colleges she could get into, which ones she should bother applying to, which ones would offer her the best financial aid, who would correct her application essays, who to ask for recommendation letters, studying for placement exams on top of other school work. What could possibly be worse than all of _that_?

“What is it?” He sat straight up in bed, fully awake now.

It took her a few moments to gather herself, and by that time, he was already working on finding two jackets, sweatpants, and his keys to the other, lesser apartment.

“D-Dad…Mom-”

“Never mind that. Explain later. Where are you?”

“I’m h-home, but Amy-”

“Can you go outside?”

“I-I..I think so…”

“Okay, stay on the phone with me, okay? I’m coming, okay?”

“Okay.”

Amy pulled up in his small Honda, some used, cheap thing which he supposedly worked hard and saved up to buy. He jumped out yelling filled the air, and Laurel raced across her front yard, flinging herself into his arms.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, eyeing the house as he helped her into the car then raced over to the driver’s seat and sped off.

Amy had wrapped his comforter around her and put a cup of hot tea in front Laurel, but she didn’t budge. She stared at the marks on his tiny dining room table, eyes puffy and nose red. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been crying.

“Laurel?” he whispered, and she jumped, startled.

“Oh, right,” she murmured. “Um, it was Dad’s drinking again, but this time…he got hurt and Mom was scolding him. He was bleeding, but they were just screaming. I wanted to call 9-1-1..but I was worried. What if they think Mom did that to him? What if they accuse each other just because they’re angry right now?” She shook her head. “I can’t let them go to jail unless they actually hurt someone-” Laurel gasped and sat straight up.

Amy put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t hurt each other, Laurel.”

“But if they do, and I could have-”

“Laurel, stop,” he said firmly. “You’re not going to blame yourself for something out of your control. Just…just be…just stay here.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he talked, sobbing all over his shirt. He tried not to seem displeased by it and put his arms around her until her sobbing subsided. He helped her move to the always-empty-master bedroom, where she curled up into a tiny ball. He pulled the sheets over her and was about to pull up the comforter when she grabbed his hand.

“Don’t leave,” she pleaded.

He hesitated, looking down at Laurel. They weren’t kids anymore, one sixteen and one seventeen, but she looked as feeble as a child and as broken as shatter glass.

Amy nodded and slowly got under the comforter. She moved over and hugged him close and tight, making him thankful that between them were the sheets he’d first pulled over her. The sheets were thin and didn’t provide much of a barrier, not that he would have done something to her, but the sheets felt more for his own protection than for hers.

For the first time since he’d lost his fire powers, Amy found that he couldn’t sleep a wink.


	9. Fast is the Sun Declining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from, "An Appeal to the Sinner" (Charles W. Naylor, 1907)

HIGH SCHOOL (Part 4/6)

> Food gained by fraud tastes sweet, but one ends up with a mouth full of gravel.

Proverbs 20:17 

𖤐

The meeting for student council, the only school activity Laurel hadn’t given up, had ended and one of her friends from the council was walking her back.

“How come you never applied to be an ambassador?” asked Monty, Council Secretary. “You can have climbed up the council ladder with relative ease since you started in freshman year.”

“Still, it’s competitive, and I knew all the other positions were going to be taken,” she said. “I’ve been…working to take better care of myself. I enjoy the position of Class Representative, so I put my effort where I knew I would succeed. Besides, if I became an ambassador just because I could get a higher position on student council, I would be leaving student council, or at least working with you guys a lot less and having to make new friends all over again. For me, this is the best option.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you leaving the council, now would we?” he said without thinking. When he saw her raised eyebrow, Monty quickly retracted, and they stopped walking.

“I-I mean it would be a shame if you left because you have so many friends and everyone really likes you, you know, Laurel? Not just m-what I mean is…” he said without looking at her, picking at his nails.

Laurel waited patiently as Monty seemed to gather his courage and start again.

“Are you busy this weekend?” he said finally.

Laurel smiled at him sadly.

“I’m not looking for a relationship, Monty,” she said, clutching her books closer to her chest.

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure,” he said, having calmed down a bit, and her heart skipped a beat. “I understand, and I respect that.”

Laurel swallowed.

Monty was attractive – unbearably so, in Laurel’s and so many other’s eyes – but he was also known for being a bit of an awkward IT Dog, which lost him “cool” points. When he got nervous, he babbled, which irked the girls who would otherwise want nothing more than to sleep with him. And at parties, he showed off magic tricks – though impressive, the party hosts hardly appreciated him stealing their show with what they thought of as lame, childish, cheap illusions. Still, he was respected even by the teachers, and most of the kids who knew him admired or at least liked him. If anyone disliked Monty, it was because they were jealous.

If they dated, he wouldn’t be like most other boys his age. He was a no-pressure sort of guy, and as awkward as he was with words, he did know how to communicate with them. Plus, he would be as dedicated to his school activities and studies and college preparation as she would, so they would have a mutual understanding. Perhaps most importantly in her mind was that they’d been friends and gotten to know each other fairly well enough; she thought he was a good guy all around.

“Um, sorry, it seems like I-” Monty said when Laurel hadn’t spoken for a few moments.

“No, I’m sorry, Monty,” she said. “I was just…thinking…and I think, actually I would like that.”

“That?” he asked, puzzled.

“You. Me,” she clarified.

Monty’s eyes widened and a smile spread across his face. “Oh, right…Cool.”

 _Cool?_ she thought with a chuckle. He certainly wasn’t smooth or cool, but at least he was adorable and sweet.

𖤐

“I’m sorry you’re dating _who_?” Amy demanded that night when Laurel made the announcement before dinner.

From where she was finishing cooking in the kitchen, Mom had said something about it being ‘wonderful, darling,’ having heard of this wonderful Monty boy before from Laurel when she talked about student council. From his seat in front of the TV in the living room, Dad had grunted something about making smart choices.

“He’s a good boy – don’t you start!” Laurel warned in a hiss. “Mom and Dad will get the wrong impression otherwise. Besides, seeing him around campus doesn’t mean you know him. You’re obviously just jealous.”

Amy ground his teeth, simmering in his own vexation.

“And I have one more thing to tell you,” she said smartly.

Amy’s palms were sweating, and he hoped it had nothing to do with her dream. It had been months before, but he was still freaked out about it. She, on the other hand, had been able to gradually move on and continue with her nice life with the help of the steps suggested by her therapist.

“He’s even more attractive than you, Stud,” she bragged.

Amy groaned.

 _That’s the problem_ , he thought.

𖤐

“Sooo, any big news?” Razia inquired the next day as she walked up to Laurel’s locker.

“What? Are you kidding me? Amy told you already!” Laurel said. “I wanted to tell you in person myself!”

“You have a _thing_ for cute boys whose name starts with M, don’t you?” Razia teased, nudging Laurel.

“Ha-ha,” she responded dryly.

“I take it Amy didn’t take it well?” Razia said.

“He could have taken it better, yes,” Laurel said. “I don’t get him. He sleeps around – people say he’s slept with half of the girls at school, including you and me, which is absurd, but I wouldn’t put the first part past him. I think he’s worried about me taking things too seriously, and that he’s jealous of the good boys, like he subconsciously thinks they’re better than him, but his consciousness denies it so he’s just…left looking like an immature middle school boy.”

“While you’re not wrong and it pleases me that you see straight through him,” Razia said. “Maybe he’s just worried.”

“Maybe he should start worrying less, otherwise I’m gonna put my foot up his ass!” Laurel exclaimed, zipping up her backpack and shutting her locker.

 _This is getting nowhere. I can’t believe I actually tried to help the demon…It’s a shame he’s right_ , Razia thought.

Amy slung her backpack over her shoulder.

“I’m going to catch Amy before we go to class,” Razia said.

“You two have been hanging out more regularly,” Laurel noted. “Finally getting along?”

“What?” Razia said. “We’ve always gotten along.”

“For me,” she retorted, shaking her head. “Look, as long as you two are finally getting rid of all that tension that’s been between you two, I’m happy.”

Razia nodded, unsure of what to say.

Laurel smirked at Razia and patted her shoulder.

“Good luck,” Laurel said. “You find Amy, I’m going to talk with Monty before class. See you later, Raz.”

 _Am I missing something?_ Razia wondered, Laurel’s smirk burned into her brain.

A flick to her forehead snapped Razia to the present, where she found herself mere centimeters from Amy, who was recoiling. She’d almost walked straight into him on his way to class.

“Could you not space out and get all up in my personal space, angel?” Amy said. “If it was anyone else – anyone! – I wouldn’t mind, but, uh, I’m not going to sink that low on the demon totem pole by letting you sink on any pole-”

“Amy, this is serious,” Razia said. “There’s a problem – in fact, two.”

“You going to spit it out any time soon?” Amy looked at her, brow furrowed.

“One, Laurel is taking this Monty thing seriously – geez! Why does she have to be attracted to-” Razia closed her eyes, breathing deeply in and out. Then she continued, “Demons. Why demons. I don’t care how much of a lesser spirit he is. We need to keep an eye on him…Why does she have to have Nephilim blood, attracting the likes of you and him?”

“Welcome to my world,” Amy said. “Except he’s worse than me, if you ask me…Raz, I already knew this problem, so if we could skip to the second one, I’d greatly appreciate it…Unless I already know it as well, in which we can skip this whole conversation and go our separate ways.”

“That’s it,” she grumbled. “That’s the problem.”

Amy laughed, unsure of what she meant. “Huh?”

“Laurel believes…” Razia shuddered. “…that there is…sexual tension, if you will, between…” Razia couldn’t bring herself to finish out of repulsion.

Amy wagged his finger between himself and Razia questioningly, and she nodded.

“I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about her,” he said. “Are you sure you heard her correctly?”

“She said, ‘Finally getting along?’” Razia half yelled.

Amy looked both relieved and annoyed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“You didn’t hear her tone!”

“Oh, my God, Razia,” he muttered. “I’m going to class. Let’s never talk of this ever again.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” Razia called, chasing after Amy.

Amy groaned, knowing there would be no getting rid of her until the bell for class rang.

𖤐

“Monty…I didn’t get the financial aid I needed from your school,” Laurel said, holding back tears. She held the letter in her one hand, her phone in the other. They’d agreed to call as soon as she got the letter from the school; whatever the outcome, Laurel had wanted Monty to be the first to hear.

It had been the last hope she’d been holding out on. The other good colleges that she’d applied to had either rejected her or not offered enough aid. The rest, the ones that had accepted her application and given her enough financial aid, weren’t much better than the local college, which if she attended, she could at least live at home to save money.

Her entire being screamed of defeat.

“It’s okay,” he said, well-aware of what it meant for her after all the talking about college they’d done.

“I can’t believe it,” she whimpered as morose, bitter tears fell. It was still early enough in the night that she could call Amy up to her room. She was about to hang up, when Monty spoke.

“Do you want me to come and get you?” he asked.

Laurel hesitated, but right now she really did want to see him and to be comforted.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll meet you outside.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “See you soon.”

She hung up and searched for her purse and a jacket before wiping her face and checking that she looked presentable. She didn’t want her parents or Amy to know, not yet anyways. Then she raced down the stairs, moving as quickly as she could towards the door.

Mom intercepted, however.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m meeting Monty,” Laurel said, on the brink of tears. She blinked them back. “I thought I told you already?”

Amy looked up at the last question. He could sense that something was wrong but wasn’t expecting her to lie.

“No,” Irene said, suspicious.

“Well, he’s already on his way, and I promise to be back by eleven,” she said.

“Ten,” said Gael.

 _Thank you_ , Amy sung mentally.

“Dad!” Laurel argued. “You always say eleven!”

“You’ve never told us this late in advance, Laurel,” he quipped. “I’m just glad you’re not lying about where you’re going.”

“Are you saying-” Laurel started, and the tears fell down her face. She wiped them away. Amy braced himself to stand but waited for the right opportunity to present itself.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” asked Irene.

“I didn’t get the aid,” Laurel muttered.

 _Is it my fault, just like Razia predicted, or would it have happened no matter what?_ Amy thought and swallowed.

“Oh, honey,” said Irene, putting her arms around her daughter.

Laurel let her mom hug her for a few long moments. When Irene realized her daughter wasn’t going to reciprocate, she pulled back, rubbing up and down Laurel’s arms as if she was trying to warm her up.

“Anyways, whether I got it or not, Monty promised he’d get me ice cream,” she stated. “I thought I told you guys already. Sorry if I forgot.”

Amy knew the tension in her voice was from the lying, not the crying. He ground his teeth, standing at the sound of Monty’s car. Laurel pushed past her mother.

“I’ll see you guys at ten,” she said and walked through the front door. Amy had no choice but to watch as she slammed the door to Monty’s car shut. Monty, who had gotten out of the car, waved to Irene, who waved back with a sad smile that said, ‘Thank you.’

Then, Amy’s and Monty’s eyes met. Monty didn’t wave, and Amy crossed his arms from where he leaned against the doorjamb. Suddenly, Monty’s gaze was torn from Amy, and it seemed that Laurel was saying something to him. He got in the car quickly, but Amy was quick enough to spot the smirk Monty shot him.

𖤐

Monty did buy her ice cream, after Laurel had asked for it out of guilt over her lie. It was just a cone and she’d finished it within ten minutes while he waited patiently. He kept the car running for some heat. It was late and their town was small enough that no one else was getting ice cream from McDonalds. The parking lot was silence, wrapped in darkness.

Monty took the cone wrapper from her, wrapped it in a tissue he’d taken from his glove box to keep the drops of ice cream from getting anywhere in his car, and put the tissue in a cup holder. He waited for Laurel to be the first to say or do something. She marveled at him, wondering how anyone could be so patient with her when she was so…high maintenance, bossy, people whispered different names for it behind her back. But not him.

Laurel grabbed either side of Monty’s face and kissed him. It wasn’t their first kiss, but Monty gripped the sides of his seat until she sucked on his bottom lip. He held in a moan, mouth parting, and Laurel deepened the kiss. His hands moved to the side of her face and her hair as she gripped his hair. A groan escaped him, one hand moving down slip under her shirt.

Laurel pulled Monty closer to her. She wanted him to wash away all her worries – his hand moved up to cup her breast, and she jerked back – but not like that. She jerked back, shoving him away, breathing heavily from lack of air.

Monty looked bewildered, shocked even, as he panted. His eyes seemed darker; his pupils having dilated. He blinked repeatedly and leaned back.

“I didn’t give you permission,” she said.

Monty nodded in understanding.

“I don’t want to rush,” she clarified.

“I thought…shouldn’t we save this for another time?” he asked.

She crossed her legs and leaned against his passenger seat. “It’ll distract me from the college thing,” she said.

 _And tell me more about you_ , she thought, surprised by his sudden boldness.

“We’ve been dating for a couple of months now,” he said. “I like you. I…was expressing it.”

“When you knew I needed comforting,” she retorted. “You could have waited for tomorrow or next week, you could’ve made your move last week.”

Monty didn’t argue. “You don’t normally kiss like that,” he said.

“So, I was asking for it?” she snapped.

“No,” he corrected. “I should have asked, and I’m sorry. What I meant was that I got caught up in the kiss.”

Laurel could feel her cheeks heating up.

 _Damn, he’s good. I feel like I was trying to pick a fight_ , she thought.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “However, I really do prefer to take things slow.”

“Okay,” Monty nodded and grabbed his water bottle.

“Besides, who knows,” she said coyly. “Maybe I’ll be more responsive after my first time.”

Monty, trying not to choke, moved the water bottle away from his mouth as a few droplets spilled. He cleared his throat, and Laurel snickered.

“You did that on purpose,” he said, and she laughed harder.

“You should’ve seen your face,” she said, and he grinned.

“Just so you know, for me, it’s an expression of love,” he said, turning more serious.

She nodded. “You respect me, and I’ll respect you,” she said. “Just ask for permission next time and don’t push me.”

“Deal,” he agreed with a wide grin.

Laurel leaned over, putting a hand on one cheek and kissing the other, before leaning back and kicking her feet out over him. He chuckled, making her smile. She was glad to have him, and she was happy he let her forget about the college and aid rejections.


	10. I Come to Thee with an Aching Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the tune of "Lord, I come to Thee with an aching heart" composed by Barney Elliott Warren

HIGH SCHOOL (Part 5/6)

> Nevertheless let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband.

Ephesians 5:33

𖤐

It was a month later when Gael hung up the call on his cell phone, standing in front of the dining room table. Irene and Amy were at the edge of their seats. Laurel was out with Monty.

“Well?” Irene asked.

“I got the job!” he announced and threw up his hands, smiling widely.

“Oh!” Irene’s hands flew to her mouth as it opened in an ‘O.’

Amy offered a lopsided smile and was taken aback when Irene threw her arms around him. She was laughing, on the verge of crying, and by the time she was able to find her footing, she was crying into her husband’s shoulder. They laughed happily together, and Amy watched with a strange mixture of warmth and uneasiness filling his chest.

 _Laurel should be the one here, not me_ , he thought.

𖤐

“Laurel?” asked Monty. He jumped to his feet, moving to his bedroom window, unlocking, and opening it. “What-what are you doing? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you, but-”

“Since we’ve been busy with school, we haven’t been able to go on a date,” she said, climbing through the window. “I just finished homework when I texted you asking you if you did.”

“And because I said I had, you came?” he asked incredulously, but smiled.

She nodded. “I missed you,” she admitted.

“Me too,” he murmured, pulling her close as he backed up to his bed. He let himself fall back when the back of his legs hit his bed, and she climbed over him as he pushed himself further up the bed.

“Stop moving,” she said with a quiet, breathy laugh.

Monty froze, looking up at Laurel, and she leaned down over him. She pressed her forehead against his, their breathes mingling, before Monty moved his hand behind her neck and pulled her down into a kiss, mouths ready and open and hungry. His hands roamed over her body, and hers moved under his shirt.

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing her neck.

She went rigid. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated as she pulled back, moving her hair to get a clear view of him. “I didn’t want to say it before. Actually, I’ve wanted to say it for a while now, but I was afraid of freaking you out.”

“You kinda are,” she admitted, sitting back on his stomach.

He propped himself up on his elbows and took her hand in his. “That’s why I wanted to wait until the right moment…though, I have to admit, it kind of stings that you’re doubting me.”

“I’m not doubting you,” she said quickly, and he arched an eyebrow. “I’m just…hesitant.”

“I’m not,” he said. “You take however long you need, but I’m saying it here and now. I love you.”

“You’re saying it here and now?” Laurel laughed. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Monty grinned at her teasing, then grabbed her arms and flipped so she was pinned under him. She could have stopped him, but she didn’t. She trusted him. They kissed again, smiling against it to one another, his hands moving down to her hips. Laurel wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Monty deepened the kiss, arms on either side of her head and knees at her waist to hold himself up. His fingers played with her soft, brunette hair.

As she moved her hand down, Laurel could feel his shoulder blades sticking out like rocks jutting out of a cliff. Her hands grazed down his back towards his waist, and he shivered and groaned. His lips moved to her jaw, kissing and sucking lightly to tickle her so she her shuddered and gasped. Hands moved up from where they had been at her hips, to her waist, slipping into her sweater, and he noticed there was no bra. She moaned, pressing into him, letting him push her shirt up, and suddenly he was taking off his shirt.

“Showing off, are we?” she teased.

Without answering, Monty was over her again and kissing her, hard. As his tantalizing mouth moved to her neck to her collarbone to her chest, his hands moved to her waist to her pants.

“Can I-” he breathed, and Laurel pulled herself away from him, yanking her sweater down. “Are you teasing me, Laurel?” he asked, looking hurt.

“What?” she demanded, her voice shrill as she forced herself to keep from yelling.

Monty moved off of her, his face turning sour. He sat on the edge of his bed, and grabbed his shirt, yanking it over his head.

“I’m not teasing you,” she said.

He snapped his head towards her. “Then what was all of _that_?”

“I wanted to see you,” she said.

 _Is this because I didn’t wear a bra?_ Laurel wondered silently.

Monty shook his head, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. “I let you lead the way, and you seem to want more – you act like it – and then when I try to give more, you…you blame me,” he said. “I feel like you’re leading me on to go forward, then suddenly you tell me to stop, like it wasn’t what you wanted? That’s teasing, Laurel. It’s unfair to me. I have done everything I can to think of you, to put you first. Can you please…I feel like it’s always all about you.”

“I’m not trying to-” Laurel sat up straight, moving towards Monty.

He held up a hand, silencing her. “Please, you should go home. If you want, I’ll drive you, but please don’t argue with me. This time…I need time. To think.”

“Wait, are you-” she asked, getting to her feet, unable to finish.

“Laurel,” he said. “I feel like you’re not taking my feelings into consideration in our relationship. I don’t want to yell or say something I shouldn’t, so I’d like you to give me some space and then we talk it out later. Right now…I just don’t want to see you, honestly.”

It was like a blow to her gut. Never feeling so humiliated, Laurel felt her feet moving towards his window. She opened it and climbed out, but it didn’t feel like her body was moving.

“Monty-” she tried again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” he said quietly, and shut the window, pulling the curtains shut.

Laurel left feeling confused and guilty.

𖤐

The next morning at school was awkward. Laurel hadn’t felt this nervous since her first date. No, this was worse; she could lose Montgomery. As they spoke in private whispers, their heads were close, but they didn’t touch one another.

“I think you were right,” she conceded.

Monty nodded slightly, his head bowed. He was unusually quiet, and she prayed he wasn’t going to break up with her.

“I’ll work to be more considerate,” she said, sounding desperate but not caring. “I’m sorry for before, Monty.”

He finally looked at her. “I don’t want to break up,” he said, and she let out a sigh of relief. “I mean it every time I say I love you. Thank you for apologizing, for giving me some space, and for respecting me as I’ve done for you.”

The corner of Laurel’s mouth lifted. “Of course,” she said and moved the hair away from his face.

“Are they finally breaking up?” Razia whispered as she and Amy watched from a safe distance away, enough to give the couple some privacy.

Amy met her gaze and shook his head. Even if they couldn’t hear what was happening, he could feel it just as he felt her horror and spotted her sullen expression the night before.

𖤐

“Hey, Raz, prom?” Amy asked as he kicked his feet up on the lunch benches, preventing her from sitting down.

Razia rolled her eyes and sat on his feet, pushing down as hard as she could. He quickly moved his feet out from under her.

“You guys should go together!” Laurel exclaimed as she leaned back into Monty, who had started joining them for lunch on occasion.

“When I can go with almost anyone I please, why would I go with someone who doesn’t appreciate me?” Amy retorted, glaring at Razia. “This is an important date.”

She tossed her golden hair over her shoulder with a smirk.

“Almost anyone?” asked Monty. “That’s humble for you.”

Amy scowled. “Some are taken,” he said, glaring at Monty.

Monty shrugged, and Amy leaned closer to him.

“Prom, Monty?” The demon batted his eyelashes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m one of the taken.”

Laurel smiled to herself, making Amy sick to his stomach.

“We could make it a threesome,” Amy tried again, making Laurel turn bright red. Amy smirked and leaned forward again. “I could keep you warm. I-”

“Thanks,” said Monty. “But we’re good.”

Laurel, unusually silent, stared down at her food. Amy smiled at Monty.

𖤐

“Amy,” Razia pulled him aside at the end of lunch. “I think it would be a good idea to go together, or otherwise not go with anyone. Then we can pair up and watch over-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Amy. He took her wrist between two of his fingers like one would a bug they have no choice but to touch and moved it off his arm. “No way are you ruining prom of all nights for me. Do you know how many girls plan this night just to lose their virginity? This is ripe pickings! They tell their parents their staying at so-and-so’s house when actually they’re all out-”

“Okay, okay, okay, stop, stop, stop!” she cried and shuddered. “I hear enough of it in the halls and during class, thanks. They don’t even try to hide it, you know. That should be such a private thing, and they’re just…wasting it away for bragging rights?”

“Moved by it, are you?” Amy gibed. “Expect everyone to wait until they’d married in a church and sworn off their lives to one another, angel?”

“I’m not so ignorant as to assume that,” she snapped before adding more softly, “It’s just a shame that they’re wasting it away.”

“Mama, we all go to Hell,” he sung to her. “Mama, we’re all gonna die.”

She sighed. “Why do I bother with you?” she muttered.

“I’ll still help you,” he said.

“You will?” Razia’s voice expressed a paradoxical mix of doubt and hope.

“I only need my date for after prom,” he said.

“Don’t make me puke on you,” she grumbled, pushing past Amy.

𖤐

Amy was the last to arrive at Laurel’s home, their gathering spot. Razia glared at Amy, who’s date was a third year and the sister to one of the girls he’d taken to the winter formal of their sophomore year.

“You sink so low,” Razia muttered when his date, Terry, was busy exchanging formalities with Laurel’s parents.

“Hey,” he said defensively. “She asked me.”

“You must think you have every girl wrapped around your finger,” Razia rolled her eyes.

Amy leaned in closer to Razia, and she crossed her arms and turned her head away from him.

“All but a few,” he said with a smirk.

Razia snorted, and walked away from him once Terry was done introducing herself and probably telling half of her life story to Gael and Irene.

“Amy,” Gael called, his voice unusually stern.

Amy followed Gael as the older man walked a few paces away from the rest of the group.

“You need to-”

“Watch over your daughter?” Amy asked, sounding bored.

Gael grabbed Amy’s arm, startling the demon. He looked up with wide eyes to see a fire smoldering in Laurel’s father’s eyes.

“What happened?” Amy asked.

“I came home to Irene sobbing and Laurel having run off somewhere – no doubt to Monty,” he explained.

“Do you know what happened?”

“I could really kill that kid right now…” Gael shook his head, releasing Amy.

Amy wondered if Gael meant Laurel or Monty.

“You know as well as we do – these days, she’s almost always gone,” he said. “One time she came home with a bruise.” Amy opened his mouth, but Gael talked over him, “Not a hickey or anything like that. Don’t be a smart ass, Amy. I was your age once too, okay?” 

Amy shut his mouth, beginning to feel uncomfortable with how serious Gael was acting.

 _She came home with a bruise_ , echoed through his mind, and he ground his teeth.

The amount of up-and-down, moody emotional roller coasters Laurel had gone through the last few years had dampened Amy’s urgency whenever an extreme but short-term emotion arose in Laurel. She was growing distant and he, weaker as he continued searching for ways to void the contract. 

Gael continued, “She said she fell or some dumb excuse, but she doesn’t even talk about him to us anymore, and she used to…at least with Irene. That’s why Irene was crying. They got in a fight over… _that kid_. All her mother wanted to know was if she was hiding anything, and that she could tell us anything, but Laurel just started yelling at her mother for not trusting her and not trusting _him_. If we even bring him up, it just causes her to go on the defense.”

“I got it,” Amy nodded.

“She didn’t tell you any of this, did she?” Gael asked.

Amy shook his head, making Gael sigh.

Laurel never mentioned any fighting. She wasn’t going home much, but she was hanging out with Razia and Amy less and less too. It hadn’t been unusual until Monty had started taking up so much time that they mostly saw her at school. She and Monty were so annoyingly lovey-dovey in front of everyone, and when she was far from him, their connection was strained. What had once been severe emotions now felt muted and faint, not to mention her emotions being all out of whack whenever Prince Charming was around. Amy had learned to tune out the connection with Laurel, instead focusing on Monty. He’d been so busy thinking about Monty that he had missed the signs Laurel was giving off.

 _Maybe only because Monty was never brought up in front of me. But why not? It’s not like I haven’t seen the worst of the family fights growing up_ , Amy thought. He stalked away from Gael, feeling a mix of betrayal and confusion towards Laurel and pure hatred towards Monty. He was working to slowly drive a wedge between Laurel and those who cared and worried about her.

Amy exchanged a furious glance with Razia to let her know something was up, before putting on his jokester mask.


	11. From the Darkness of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "I'm Redeemed, I'm Redeemed, From the Darkness" by Joseph C. Fisher (1884)

HIGH SCHOOL (Part 6/6)

> The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? 

Jeremiah 17:9

𖤐

“What are you saying?” Laurel jerked back from where Monty had leaned down to whisper in her ear.

She could feel Amy’s eyes boring into her, and for a passing second, considered slipping away from Monty. Instead, she braced herself and glared.

“You’re not pressuring me into doing anything,” she snapped. “Now, don’t ruin tonight.”

Monty opened his mouth, so Laurel turned away from him, meeting Amy’s eyes.

Amy looked back and forth between the two.

“Did you spike the lemonade?” Razia hissed, her breath running down his neck so he shivered, and the demon waved her away.

“Not this time,” he sneered, taking her glass and sipping. He jerked back as the cheap alcohol left a bad aftertaste in his mouth. “Yeah, definitely not. This tastes like some moron-”

“I don’t care what it tastes like.”

“You’re better off.”

“Do you think you could be any more obvious?” Razia asked, pushing the alcoholic lemonade away.

“Hm?”

She motioned towards where Laurel and Monty stood on the other side of the dance floor. Amy shrugged.

“If I was, would it make any difference?” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Razia said. As Amy’s eyebrows furrowed, she explained, “She’s be madder. You’d be pushing her away.”

Amy snorted.

 _If this little bitch ruins my contract…_ Amy startled himself as the thought crossed his mind. The anger burning through his veins turned to vapor. _If she ruins it, then there’s nothing tying us here._ He glanced at Razia, who stared at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Just that you’re right.”

Razia’s eye narrowed but she did not press.

“You’re the one who told me to lie to my parents and split the hotel room cost with me,’ Monty argued.

“And now, I’m saying I want to invite our friends for an after-prom party,” Laurel snapped. 

“And I’m sure it’ll last until the morning!” Monty’s fists clenched at his sides.

“What’s your rush?” Laurel retorted.

Monty exhaled loudly through his nose and relaxed, unclenching his hands and releasing the tension in his shoulders. His hands moved to Laurel’s shoulders, and she flinched. Defeated, Monty dropped his hands to his sides.

“I love you,” his voice strained. “I’ve waited for you! What about our agreement to compromise, Laurel?”

“I-I-“

“Don’t you love me?” he asked. “We’re going to different schools, Laurel. I won’t be able to see you much at all soon. I have to get as much of you as I can before it gets harder. Do you doubt me? Is that why?”

“No!’ Laurel said, too quickly. “I trust you…I’m just…I’m worried.”

“About what?” Monty chuckled.

“You’re my first, okay?” she blurted out. “First serious boyfriend! I’m nervous! Okay? It’s embarrassing to say!”

Monty smiled from ear to ear. A chill ran up Laurel, spreading over his skin, leaving a wake of goosebumps.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me,” he cooed. “I’ll take care of you, so don’t worry. Don’t be nervous. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course,” she shot. “Don’t ask such a ridiculous question!”

“Then…?” He said and when Laurel hesitated, added, “Laurel, I want this for us. I’m not going to lie, the first time is not what anyone says it is, but they always say practice makes perfect.” – Laurel suppressed a grin and chuckle with an eye roll and an annoyed look – “I love you, Laurel. Please trust me.”

“Okay, fine,” Laurel caved.

“Thank you. I promise to actually behave for once,” Monty swore, taking Laurel in his arms and smiling so broadly that Laurel found it contagious, as nervous as she was. “And I promise to take care of you. I love you so much, Laurel.”

𖤐

“Can you believe it?” Razia squealed, making sure her green graduation hat was pinned properly to her head in Gael’s rearview mirror…for the millionth time.

From the passenger seat, Irene grinned from ear to ear. Razia, Amy, and Laurel were piled in the backseat; Monty had decided to go separately since he had to go early, as Salutatorian and all. Razia and Amy much preferred it that way.

“Can you stop saying that?” Amy grumbled.

“Oh, come on, Amy!” Laurel exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and squeezing, hardly able to contain her excitement. “We’re finally graduating!”

“Whoo,” he said, pretending to wave a small flag with his hand.

Laurel cuffed him, and Amy felt his head snap forward.

“Ow!” Amy laughed, turning to Laurel, grabbing her wrists. He rose his voice an octave, yelling while half-laughing, “Fine! Wow, I’m so excited! We get to wait through four hours of listening to dumb speeches and awards and a long-ass list of names!” He returned to his regular voice, “There? Happy?”

She had burst into giggles, and Amy found himself smiling despite himself.

“You know, I do believe she’s the only one who can make you smile like that,” Razia whispered in his ear, earning her a sharp elbow in the ribs from Amy when Laurel was busy wiping the tears from her eyes.

“We’re here, kids,” Gael announced.

They filed out of the back of the car and raced towards the auditorium without a second thought of Gael or Irene. Laurel hadn’t even bothered to slip on her heels, while Razia’s sandals made funny slapping sounds against the concrete as they ran.

With her parents out of sight, Amy grabbed Laurel’s arm to stop her in front of one of the side entrances.

“Amy, wrong-” Razia called back at the pair, slowly her run into a jog. All the seniors were supposed to gather in one of the rooms located in the back of the auditorium. Then she stumbled into a stop, jaw dropping.

Amy ignored Razia, putting his hand on Laurel’s neck and pulling her forward until their lips met. She barely had time to react, and he pulled away sucking on her bottom lip, smirking.

Laurel hadn’t reacted in time, but she wasn’t surprised. Neither did she kiss him back.

“You done now?” she asked, her cheeks and ears heating up.

Amy chuckled, and Laurel raced to Razia’s side without waiting for an answer.

“I know I don’t have the best reputation, dear, but come now!” he called after her.

Laurel simply guffawed without looking back, and Razia smirked back at him as the girls linked arms. They started walking forward, and Amy followed a few yards behind.

“She’s immune to your charms, Devil!” Razia said, her teasing tone only encouraging Amy and he surged forward to catch up with them.

“Besides, I still have my Monty,” Laurel said, making Razia flinch and Amy’s blood boil. 

He grabbed Laurel’s waist, making her jump out of ticklishness and smack his arm.

“But that’s why I like her so much,” he said, looking at Laurel but talking to Razia.

“And you said you weren’t excited,” Laurel said with false annoyance, one eyebrow raised. “And you’re lucky Monty isn’t here. He’d…probably just cry.”

“I never said that!” Amy exclaimed, ignoring _Monty this, Monty that_.

“You certainly acted like it in the car!” protested Razia, still a little hurt from his early reprimand over her own excitement.

“A man cannot show his true emotions,” Amy claimed, hugging Laurel.

Razia snorted.

“Not a true man,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes and pushing him away.

She gave him a peck on the cheek and grabbed Razia’s hand. He did not chase her as they walked in the direction of the auditorium.

Amy suppressed a frown. No matter how much he’d tried to manipulate her while they were growing up, especially with Razia coming into Laurel’s life so much later than he had, it had become clear that Amy had grossly underestimated Laurel all her life.

 _But your genes don’t decide how mature or strong you become_ , Amy thought.

So, this was Laurel, all on her own, despite all that life had thrown her way, or perhaps because of it all. She could have so easily turned out as Amy had hoped and tried to push her into becoming, some suicidal misanthrope. Instead, she’d grown to understand that her parents had never been financially secure which caused the fighting and the drinking, she hated that they chose fighting and drinking over more mature methods of coping but she did not hate them, and she did not hate Amy despite his callousness and mischief. Razia was right; in an ironic and twisted way, Amy had made her immune to him.

𖤐

Amy collapsed back into his dark navy comforter, slipping underneath the blankets. Warmth seeped through his pores as he snuggled into the bed, curling up with a moan.

“This apartment even smells better,” he grumbled.

It was 3 AM, and not even the birds chirped outside. A clock in the living room ticked, and late May rain pattered the window.

Soft thumps against the carpet had Amy jerking up, only for him to be shoved back down with the covers smoothing over his face. Amy kicked out, his arms pinned to his sides with the sheets.

The fire roared to life as panic surged through Amy. A pained growl escaped between Monty’s lips as he stepped away from Amy, who kicked off the blankets. He inhaled sharply, coughing, and Monty’s hand shot out to tighten around his throat.

His hair gleamed against the fire light as he pushed Amy away from the bedroom hearth. Amy scratched at his arms, reached to yank on his shirt. His eyes bulged, and Monty smiled.

The fire’s heat grew, flames licking the stone that now barely contain Amy’s desperation. The window burst open, and the wind carried the rain into the room. Water soaked into the sheets and pelted the fire. The room grew stuffy with smoke, and beads of sweat collected along Amy’s hairline as the fire exploded.

Monty cowered away with an angry shout. He grabbed Amy’s ankle, yanking him away from the fire. Not that distance from their respective elements would lessen their powers, but so Monty was further out of range.

Flames leapt to the carpet only to be extinguished by the pouring rain.

Fingers tangled into Amy’s black curls, and Monty thrashed. He slammed the lesser demon into the nightstand again and again.

Vergil stepped silently into the room and with every step, the flames crawled towards their unconscious master, following his ever-faithful servant.

A sharp pain seared straight through Monty’s core and he looked down to see a flaming sword poking out from his gut. Amy fell limp from his grasp. Monty collapsed with a _thump_ ; the shell of a human corpse left.

As the fire overcame the rain and ate away at the apartment, Vergil became acutely aware of the natural human reaction to fire was to attract attention. He shook Amy awake, but a mere groan escaped him.

“Master, you must stop the fire,” Vergil said and muttered, “Lucifer, is this really worth it?” He straightened up. “Sorry, sir,” he said and slapped Amy across the face.

A deep groan came from Amy.

“Sir, stop the fire,” Vergil implored.

“It’s…” Amy coughed and continued, “out of my control now. It’s just another fire. Take me to its core.”

Vergil glanced at Monty’s human body and frowned. He left Amy to drag the body into the hearth, where it disappeared, before returning to help Amy to his feet. They disappeared into the safety of Hell knowing the first ambulance wouldn’t arrive for several minutes.

Laurel stood in the middle of Razia’s dining room with Razia, Amy, bacon and scrambled eggs at the table, a place where Amy felt both safe and disturbed. With Razia’s “parents” out, Amy had to listen to Laurel’s (and Vergil’s made up) side of the Monty story. 

“Can you believe him?” Laurel burst out two days later, throwing her arms up in exasperation. She moved them back down to stare at the text. “Listen to this!” – Her voice deepened mockingly but not even a snicker was heard from Amy – “I’m so sorry, Laurel, but I have to establish _residency_ in _California_ ,” her voice filled with spite, “That-that his family will be _moving there_ with him!”

It deepened again as she continued, “As much as I want to be with you, it will cost me too much. The tuition is already too much, and you know I can’t ask my family. You’re so sweet, I know you’ll understand. _Thanks, Monty_.” Laurel finished red and seething.

No one spoke at first. Laurel looked too ready to bite a head clean off. Amy did his best to look shocked. Razia didn’t need to pretend.

 _Vergil really went all out. A curt ‘I want to break up’ would have been just fine_ , Amy thought bitterly, his chin resting on his hand. The tight pressure from Monty’s hands lingered around his neck, his throat constricted just enough for it and all that it meant – his loss of what made him a demon – to haunt him.

“Well?” Laurel demanded. “Can you believe this asshole? How much do you want to bet he found some stupid, big-boobed, tanned California dominatrix?!”

At that, Amy snorted.

“It’s not funny!” Laurel hit him in the arm – and it _really_ hurt.

The demon rubbed his arm and looked to Razia.

Bitterness flashed in her eyes, but it was gone when eyes turned to her. Only sadness, not anger, shone through.

“It’s good he’s gone,” Razia said, her voice quickening as she went on, “He doesn’t deserve you. If he was a better man, he’d be more honest. Seriously, he goes all out about ‘Oh, you’re so great this’ and that and blah-blah-blah! Maybe he meant it – but honestly, I doubt it! I-I mean-…He-He- _grrr_!”

Amy stared wide-eyed at the angel. Her human body’s dark roots were growing out and bags darkened around her eyes. She looked at awful as Amy felt…and as though there wasn’t a drop of angel blood in her. She was beaten-down and fraught; she looked utterly human and _used_.

Razia wasn’t really angry at Monty. She knew what was going on and even if the text made her suspicious, she would be glad to be rid of him.

Pondering, Amy looked between Razia and Laurel.

“You’re right,” Laurel agreed with a nod, and Razia flinched.

 _No, she’s not mad at Monty at all_ , Amy thought, mildly amused.

“He doesn’t deserve me,” Laurel said, his hands moving to her hips. “I know high school sweethearts don’t usually end up together. I’m sure many break up before or early in college. The dickhead totally should have been more honest. He won’t even reply to any call or text. He’s acting like a child…You know what? I’m glad he’s gone! I don’t want to date a fucking, pee-brained _child_! For all his looks, he’s just as shallow as they come! He thinks he’s soo smart and _sooo_ good in bed – well, think again, asshole! If this piece of shit’s _text_ isn’t proof of that, then what is?!” Laurel huffed, moved to the table and slammed her hands down, making Razia and Amy jump.

In a calmer voice, she said, “Let’s go out tonight. We’ll celebrate this. I’m not going to cry like with Michael. That would be pathetic.”

“It’s already almost ten,” Razia pointed out.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Laurel said, walking towards the stairs. “Come on, let’s get ready.”

Amy looked at Razia. Neither looked in the mood for partying.

“I thought you’d be more excited,” Razia said.

“Says the one feeling used,” Amy retorted.

Razia scowled. “So what? That’s perfectly—”

“Human and sounds like a devil tempted you to feel that way,” Amy said. “How perfectly convenient, blaming it on someone else.”

“I’m not,” she hissed, standing. “Yes, I feel like Laurel sometimes just comes to us when she wants something from us, whether that be a car ride or emotional gratification. You know what, though, Amy? That’s my job. What’s your excuse?”

Razia’s bitterness soothed Amy. Not in the demonic I-tempted-and-she-caved way, but in that she wasn’t all golden haloes and white wings. Just as he was less and less black claws and consuming flames and Laurel, the good underdog.

“Just glad for thinks to go back to normal,” Amy said as Razia marched out of the room.

Normal meant easier. Easier meant stopping this madness and his loss of strength and skill. Normal meant power. Power over the contract, over Laurel, over all the other demons who crossed him. Not even Razia would be able to stop him. The fires would scorch her beautiful wings; the smoke would choke her until tears ran down her cheeks, leaving streams of ivory on her soot-covered face.

Laurel would be another contract once more. Evidence that she’d somehow bested him, that her contract meant loss of himself, would be gone forever. He’d forget about it all in a couple hundred years, but all the others would remember the one who overcame an angel and a corrupted contract with Nephilim blood.

“ _As if_. We’re starting college soon,” he heard her mutter, tearing Amy away from his vengeful reverie.


	12. Updates

Updates to this will be far more irregular and then after the 17th chapter (which is as far as I have written but still need to go back and edit, come up with Biblical quotes and ch. names), it'll go on pause indefinitely. **Thank you** to everyone who has checked out this story--it really means as a lot as this was something I can up with back in high school and have worked on on-and-off since.

For now, I want to focus on [The Vampire King](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28413276/chapters/69703593) and [The Goddess of Blessed Death](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28442244/chapters/69697158) since the whole point of joining AO3 was for that exact kind of motivation and more narrowed focus. If you like Greek myths and plays particularly Hercules (Herakles in the story), exploring (binary and cis)gender issues found within them, Death as characters, romance, adventure, or history or historical research footnotes, check out [The Goddess of Blessed Death](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28442244/chapters/69697158). If you like vampires and exploring all the themes/motifs/stereotypes associated, some lesbian representation (not right away but once characters start getting to know each other), politics, war's aftermath, power dynamics, cultural clashes/communication, romance, enemies-to-lover, or low fantasy, I recommend [The Vampire King](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/28413276/chapters/69703593). 

For now, just a big thank you for reading and checking out this story. Whatever I decide to do with this story, thank you! For any feedback, questions, comments, anything at all--would love to hear from you--you can contact me on Twitter @[montblancaAO3](https://twitter.com/montblancaAO3) :) Hope to hear from you there, in a later chapter and/or on another story! 

~^.^~ MB


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